Broken
by storyshark2005
Summary: “We don’t work without him, do we Spock?” ---Spock and Bones must deal with being the ones left behind after a tragic away mission. Can they survive without Jim? And is he truly gone?
1. Chapter 1: Dark Days

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter One: Dark Days

~-O-~

"I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken - and I'd rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived."

-Margaret Mitchell

* * *

-O-

_Starship Enterprise, en route to Planet Earth_

_One month out from Galacia Prime_

_-_O-

McCoy studied Spock. He stood just inside the doorway. The lamplight haloed his figure from behind, a silhouette of discipline- spine rigid, hands clasped at the small of his back. He could just make out Spock's dark, wide eyes in the dusky light.

Spock averted the Doctor's probing gaze, still sharp despite the thin sheen of alcohol damping his senses.

He cleared his throat and glanced back down to his drink. Staring into its amber depths, he spoke.

"What's on your mind, Spock?"

He glanced back up at the stoic Vulcan, who seemed be faltering at the edge of speech. It was subtle- a slight tightening of the eyebrows, an almost imperceptible drop of the mouth, and a small, quiet intake of breath.

"Well why don't you sit down first? You're driving me nuts standing there like a goddam lady in waiting."

Spock complied, sinking stiffly into the armchair next to McCoy's. He folded his hands neatly in his lap, and Leonard could almost feel the Vulcan fighting the urge to wring them together, stilled only by a focus honed with years of discipline and suppression.

"Look, Spock," he poured the Vulcan a drink, probably and act in futility, but these were dark days and Spock was half human, after all. "If you want to talk about…" he paused on the unspoken name, but just for a moment. He was getting better at it. "..about Jim, then I'll listen. I know you think you're handling it, but keeping it all bottled up like you're doin, Spock…you'll die."

Spock's placid gaze hardened and he lowered his eyes. His voice was dry, dead.

"I assure you, Doctor. Vulcans are more than capable of dealing with their own grief." He paused and swallowed. "It is perhaps, a different process than the human equivalent, but a natural one all Vulcans are adept to handle."

McCoy snorted, voiced laced with sarcasm. "All Vulcans, Spock? Even those of tainted blood? I suppose I should thank you, then, for showing up at my quarters at four in the morning just to help me deal with my grief."

Spock remained silent, still staring down at his unmoving hands.

McCoy tore his gaze from his friend and took the opportunity to top off his glass. Silence filled the room, and the lack of a third's presence was palpable, heavy in the space between them.

"We don't work without him, do we Spock?"

Spock's only reaction was a deeper intake of breath.

McCoy swallowed, fighting down the aching hurt that had sat curled deep in his chest since that dark day on Galacia Prime, a month ago. His eyes started to water, and he knocked back a burning gulp of the stinging hot drink, hoping it would somehow loosen the knot of coiled iron, spasming and pulling tighter whenever his thoughts ventured too far back.

He let his head rest in one hand, and his loose hold failed on the empty glass, falling to the floor with a dull thud. Shattering glass might have made it better- it might have broken something, changed something. Instead the thud echoed through his core, knotted and wounded and painful. He gripped his head, and a choking sound of anguish was yanked from his throat, unfamiliar to his own ears.

_Bright flashes burned his retinas, playing on the back of his eyelids…blue flashes…eyes so blue they could break you…gold hair, gold light, light flashes burn, smile, smile like a warm Georgia sun, dangerous smirk, dangerous boy, beautiful boy, laugh, laugh like music, singin' in the rain, rain, pouring down, flash, flash lightning, storm, flash, dark, flash- there's the body, it should be moving, its Jim's body but where is Jim? That's not Jim's hair, caked in mud and blood, dark and dull, not at all like Jim's golden __bronzed , shiny, soft, no, that's not Jim, flash, dark, dark, dark, so dark now, can't even breathe, cold, like space, everything's still here but something's gone, gone its empty here, it's the same but dull, duller without the light, those flashes of blue and gold, its too dull, too dark to see worth a damn and he's gone now, Jim's gone and he's not coming back, he's gone, he's not coming back, he's gone…_

McCoy's eyes flew open, and he struggled to catch his breath. His fingers still dug into his temples, raking hair away from his face. The empty glass lay overturned on the floor, glittering dimly in the low light.

He found Spock beside him still in the chair, but he was hunched over, hands heeled to his eyes. He was breathing hard, jerky and irregular puffs of air, shallow and stricken. He let out a low groan and slid forward, knees folding under him on the carpeted floor.

McCoy had never seen the Vulcan like this. In the month since Galacia Prime, Spock hadn't broken down. He had simply ceased all unnecessary speech, stopped going to the rec-halls Jim had so painstakingly coaxed him to venture into. He worked his shift efficiently every day, and immediately shut himself in his quarters, whether for deep meditation or to crawl down the dark shaft of grief, nobody knew. That low moan of agony was the first real admission of pain Spock had made.

He hesitated a moment, then crossed the couple of steps to Spock's chair and knelt carefully at his bowed form. His hand hovered over Spock's shoulder for a moment, but alighted on the chairs' armrest instead.

"Jesus, Spock, I'm sorry. I should've…Well we've all been dealing with this our own way I suppose. I've been a fucking mess. I should've asked you if, well I am the goddamned ship's doctor." He paused, waiting for Spock to reply.

None came.

"Spock, look at me."

And he did. He lifted his head from his hands. Deep bruises underneath his eyes told of days without sleep, maybe weeks if his physiology was to tell. But it was the eyes. Spock breathed heavily as those wounded, bottomless dark eyes bore straight into his own. He wondered how they had ever seemed so cold. His mind flew backwards, tipping down into the depths of memory, memories he had been trying to keep at bay…

_Light…he felt strangely light. It was a feeling he had almost forgotten. It was existence without the heavy burden of grief and pain wrapped inside him. _

_Jim was here. _

_They were sitting in Jim's quarters…drinking some kind of liquor and watching the stars as they talked. _

_Bones felt an easy laugh fall from his lips and he glanced back up at Jim. He had said something funny, he knew, but he didn't remember what. _

_A comfortable silence rested between them, and he watched Jim's eyes dancing with amusement as he took another drink. God, he had missed him…missed everything about him. His eyes…that voice, so dry, amusement constantly undertoned with something like fate, inevitability. _

_Words came to his mouth now, words he remembered speaking at this same moment, god it had been at least a year ago, maybe two. _

"_So I assume you've heard the news, then. Of your pointy-eared First Officer."_

_Jim looked up and nodded, all amusement fading from his eyes. _

"_Yeah, Sulu and Chekov keep me in the loop. Sulu thinks it's only right that 'the Captain should be apprised of the well-being and morale of the crew'."_

_McCoy nodded. "Yeah, Sulu's a damned gossip queen. That's how I heard. I was just doing his physical yesterday and I say 'Open your mouth, Lieutenant', and he just blurts it out. Right out of the blue! I told him it was damned well none of my business __or__ his, but it doesn't make a difference now."_

_Jim settled deeper into his chair and took a drink. _

"_Yeah, I mean, it was quieter on the bridge the other day I guess, but I had no fuckin idea." He gazed down into his glass. "Damned shame, too. They were good together."_

_Bones raised an eyebrow. "Can't say I'm surprised though."_

_Jim's eyes shot back to his friend and he sat up a little. _

"_Why? You knew they were having problems?"_

_He shrugged. _

"_Well not exactly, but when you're dating a Vulcan, how much is really there for you? Emotionally, I mean? Hell, I know. I was married to the coldest ice queen in the state of Georgia. Uhura's a beautiful, vibrant emotional young woman. Spock is, well, he's Spock. He wouldn't blink if someone sat in front of him breaking the necks of puppies and kittens. He probably told her 'dumping you is only logical, Lieutenant. We can increase our work efficiency 6.8% by terminating this relationship'." He snorted. "Damned fool probably can't even see she's the most beautiful woman on the whole goddamned ship."_

_Jim muttered something into his drink. _

"_What?"_

"_I said, how do you know it was Spock who broke it off?"_

_Bones shifted, now vaguely uncomfortable. "Well, I suppose I don't. I just assumed. She was so obviously in love with him. I can't picture Nyota ending it."_

_Jim was silent for a minute. After studying his glass, he downed the last half in one gulp, wincing as it burned its way down his throat. _

_Abruptly, he stood. _

"_I'm going to bed, Bones."_

"_What? Its only 2200!"_

_Jim set his glass down loudly, causing Leonard to jump in his seat. _

"_I'm tired."_

_He turned and walked back to his bedroom. _

_McCoy shook his head, confused, but collected their glasses and dumped them into the replicator's matter recycler and turned to leave. _

_He reached the door. _

"_Bones-"_

_He turned to see Jim poking his head back into the main room, shirtless and ready for bed. _

"_What?" he asked, tired and faintly annoyed at Jim's mood swings. _

"_Just…just give him a chance, Bones. You know, its all an act anyway. Underneath, he's really…"_

_He paused, trying to put into coherency vague thoughts and ideas. _

"_His eyes, Bones. You can see it. He's got human eyes."_

_McCoy looked incredulous. "How much did you drink, Jim? What the hell are you talking about?"_

_Jim looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. He fisted his hand on the doorframe, turned, and walked back to the shadows of his bedroom. _

"_Never mind. I'll see you."_

_Bones rolled his eyes. _

"_Fine. Night Jim."_

The memory faded , swirling colors turning gray, and he had a sensation of being pulled forward, into the dark.

He slammed back into lucidity with a jolt.

The first thing he noticed was nothing.

Spock-

Still crouched on his knees, McCoy whipped around to the door to see Spock standing at the threshold, his back and shoulders tense, one finger on the door control. His head turned halfway back towards the Doctor. The corridor light glinted in Spocks' glassy eyes.

"Goodnight, Doctor."

Bones managed a hoarse 'G'night, Spock' as the doors shut on his retreating back.

* * *

**A/N: So this is a story I'm rather proud of. It could just stand alone like this, but I've got a few ideas for a plot to extend it to a full story. It's a story without Jim physically present, but really, its all about Jim, and the love between him, Bones, and Spock. And how Jim can never really die as long they live on. If I extend it, it will be very angsty, but not tragic. It will have a happy ending. I shouldn't have said that, but I don't want everyone to be bummed at the end of a story. I HATE that. I love angsty stories, but they shouldn't just depress you. They should uplift and inspire. Anyway, review if you want more.**


	2. Chapter 2: And He Slept

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter Two: And He Slept

~-O-~

_My blood an even tenor kept,_

_Till on mine ear this message falls,_

_That in Vienna's fatal walls_

_God's finger touch'd him, and he slept._

_But I remained, whose hopes were dim,_

_Whose life, whose thoughts were little worth,_

_To wander on a darkened earth,_

_Where all things round me breathed of him._

-Excerpt, Tennyson's 'In Memoriam', LXXXV

* * *

-O-

_One Month Ago_

_Galacia Prime, Romulan Star Empire, Titus System, near Romulan Neutral Zone_

_-_O-

Lightning flashed, highlighting the violet night sky of Galacia Prime and Jim's ultramarine eyes. Spock watched Jim from his seat in the small living area of their allotted cabin. Doctor McCoy sat at his side, and an empty chair completed a small triangle in the center of the bare floor. The room was gray and dark, and Jim's nervous tenseness electrified the room. McCoy shifted, his eyes glued to Jim's back.

Spock stood and strode to Jim's side. Jim didn't acknowledge his presence, still staring out the transparent aluminum pane shielding him from the storm outside.

"Captain-"

"Its Jim, Spock."

"Jim…perhaps your anxiety would lessen if you would indulge the Doctor or myself in the details disturbing you. This mission is…atypical. Perhaps the pact of confidentiality you have taken with Starfleet Command should be considered as such."

Jim's shoulders relaxed marginally, and he turned to look at Spock with an amused smile. "Are you suggesting I violate a direct order, Spock?"

Spock's mouth twitched and he turned his eyes back to the window. "Unusual circumstances can sometimes necessitate a reconsideration of the validity of such orders. Your liberal interpretation of protocol has proved beneficial to the Enterprise and her crew on several occasions."

McCoy snorted from behind them. "Liberal interpretation? Or a lack thereof. I didn't even know Jim had a copy of Starfleet Protocol on board that damned ship."

Jim grinned. "I actually have one in my quarters, Bones. In fact, I've even flipped through it once or twice."

McCoy frowned. "Bullshit. The only rule you know in that goddamn thing is the Prime Directive, and you use that as more of a 'guideline' anyway. Starfleet ought to know making a cadet the captain of the goddamned flagship was a stupid idea."

Jim frowned. "And yet you're still on board. Maybe you ought to request a transfer Bones."

"Jim, someone has to keep your sorry ass alive. Unfortunately I'm the only one who'll do it."

Jim nodded and turned back to the window. The air in the room seemed to regain its earlier buzz of unease. "You can only do so much…" he said lowly.

Spock's brow drew in, concerned, and he glanced back at McCoy, who returned his glance with an equally disturbed look.

Spock turned, angling himself between Jim and the window. "Jim…" he muttered. He hesitantly rested a hand on Jim's elbow and dipped down to look into his eyes.

The young captain's eyelids slipped shut, and he let out a breath as he leaned into his friend's touch. He seemed almost to sway on his feet, and Spock quickly steadied him with another hand.

Spock almost missed the low sound of Jim's voice.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Spock."

Spock felt his stomach twist. "Jim…"

"Jim, what's wrong?" Bones had crossed the room. "Jim, look at me. What's wrong?" Spock sidestepped to let the doctor in, but kept one hand on Jim's elbow.

"Mm fine, Bones."

"Goddammit, Jim you'd better look at me right now. Tell me what's wrong."

Thunder crashed, slamming the air around their ears and dimming the light for a moment.

Spock felt a pull on his hand, and he reacted before he felt his captain falling to the floor. He reached out and grabbed the other arm, and slammed to his knees. Jim's head lolled back onto his shoulder.

McCoy was yelling, and Spock carried his burden to one of the bare beds in the back room. He was pushed gently aside as the doctor ran, cursing, to grab his medkit.

"He's fine."

Spock's eyebrows lowered slightly. "I highly doubt that."

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Well, fine for Jim, I mean. Considering his delicate immune system and tendency to find every dangerous creature, disease, and situation on every godforsaken planet he sets foot on, he's not doing too bad."

McCoy glanced back towards the bathroom, where Jim was currently emptying his guts. "I'm worried though. I've never seen him this wound up. He scared, Spock. Scared shitless and he won't tell me why."

The notion seemed to alarm something deep within the Vulcan. "Perhaps we should consider withdrawal, doctor. You do have the authority to declare the Captain unfit for duty. I would then assume command."

"Yeah, but what good would that do, Spock? The Enterprise isn't set to rendezvous for two days. We'd just be sitting here until then. It's this planet that has him scared."

"He would not have to endure these negotiations. I would take his place."

"But Starfleet hasn't told you anything. You'd have to get Jim to tell you the details. And scared or not, he's damn set on taking this top secret shit seriously."

Spock glanced back to the bathroom. He looked back at the doctor. "I shall have to try, in any case."

He sidled past the doctor, and walked down the short hall to the bathroom. Jim's retching sounds wrenched Spock's chest, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside. He set a hand on the door, and pushed it open.

Jim was bent over the waste extraction unit, one hand carding through his sweaty hair. He stilled, shoulders stiffening, as he sensed Spock's presence.

"Nope. Sorry, Spock. It has to be me."

Spock pushed down his frustration. "Jim, you are clearly not fit for duty, not to mention a diplomatic first contact. You would be remiss in your duties if you were to ignore your own health."

Jim twisted to look at Spock incredulously. "How the hell did you know this was a first contact? No one was supposed to know that but me."

"I did not."

Jim eyes widened. "You guessed…you son of a bitch…" he breathed.

Spock cocked his head. "I fail to see what my genetic lineage has to do with the female Terran canine." His eyes sparkled.

Jim shook his head. "Spock, you're something else…". His grin slipped, and worry crept back into his eyes, blue now shot with red. Fatigue seemed to permeate his body, was soaked into his skin, rested too heavily on his shoulders.

Spock lowered himself to the floor, stretching his long legs out on the cold granite-like tile. Jim turned his torso to lean against the toilet, and rested his elbows on his knees. His profile was gaunt and drawn; his blue stare constant, unblinking against the bare wall opposite.

"Spock, take care of him."

"Jim?"

"Bones. I mean, _if_ something happens to me. Take care of him."

"Jim, this is hardly the appropriate moment-"

"PROMISE me, Spock." Jim was suddenly crawling over to Spock, kneeling beside him, eyes pleading.

"Promise me…just, please…" He suddenly took Spock's head in his hands, thumbs on his cheek bones, pointed ear framed by Jim's pointer and middle fingers. Spock's skin buzzed with the psionic contact, and he felt a wave of terrible anxiousness paralyze his whole body, flowing from Jim's hands- he felt fear, he felt…lonely. He felt so alone and afraid and he was in the dark, curled in a corner…He closed his eyes, trying to control the flood of unfamiliar discord and chaos gripping his mind.

"Spock…"

A forehead rested against his own, and Spock's eyes flew open to meet Jim's fearful gaze. An even larger jolt of '_PLEASE'_ sung through his brain from the skull-to-skull contact. He could not refuse.

"Yes." Spock was vaguely aware that grammatically, he had answered Jim's question incorrectly. But such a wash of grateful thanks, relief, peace…the warmth loosened the knots that the previous bout of emotions had tied, it sloshed, golden and soothing over every fiber of his being. He had never felt more accepted or content in his whole life. Jim's mind bumped the edge of his own consciousness. '_Thank You…'_

He was fairly certain Jim stood up at some point and went to bed, though he was uncertain when that actually happened. Spock didn't know how long he sat there, his mind still reeling and raw from the emotional barrage just sustained. The last thing he remembered, before it all started, was stumbling onto the cot beside Jim's, and falling asleep to the sound of deep breathing.

Spock awoke in the dark with a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. _Jim….where is Jim…got to find Jim, he's in trouble…_

A warning was blaring through his mind, red and brash and pervasive. He understood only the primordial instinct, _DANGER, _stilled and suppressed for generations of mind control and discipline. Yet that instinct seized his muscles and flooded them with adrenaline. Sweat, a human trait slipped into his Vulcan dominated DNA, plastered his Starfleet blacks to his chest and back. His pupils were fully dilated to take in any light that had managed to permeate the oppressive darkness.

He was across the room and out the door in a hazy instant, the downpour instantly soaking him as a chill sank into his bones. His skin was numb, and he didn't feel the rough, sharp ground on the soles of his feet. He knew only that he had to find Jim…find Jim before it was too late.

He didn't head to the Galatian Popular Assembly, where that morning they had met the Galatian _Dominatae_, but to the outskirts of Mevaniola, towards the Cliffs of _Mons Caelius_. The cliffs gave abruptly away to a sheer fall to _Mare_ _Iratus, _which covered 87% of the planet's surface, eating away at the two small continents with its monsoon like waves. There wasn't a spot on the planet deaf to the constant crashing, angry swells of _Mare Iratus_.

His head seemed to float upward, as if filled with helium. The storm raging around seemed to slow, and his feet seemed sluggish and heavy. The dark world seemed to dull gray at the edges, and the ice cold flush of adrenaline pouring through his muscles seemed to warm slightly, and his limbs pulled heavier on his body.

_No..Jim….where is Jim…have to find him…_

He was pulled inexplicably towards the cliffs, silhouetted by flashes of lightning against the amethyst sky.

_Dark…dark…..FLASH…..dark….dark…._

The crashing seemed to deaden. He carried on, step after heavy step…_where was Jim?_

He knew somehow, he knew he had to be close. Water dropped from eyelashes, beaded on his skin…

_FLASH…..what….something there…._

Spock paused, waiting for the next flash to light his surroundings…..

..._FLASH…_

Up ahead, about twenty meters, the rocky slope signaled the start of the _Mons Caelius_ cliffs. It vaulted overhead at least a hundred feet, maybe more. Something pulled in his chest, and he slowly approached the foot of the empyrean

.._dark_…..his eyes were starting to adjust to the deep inky blackness, soaking in the light between the periodic flash…

Something moved across his peripheral vision- moved, and was gone. He whipped around- and found nothing.

His brain still seemed to be enshrouded in a fog. He tried desperately to focus his mind, but found it impossible.

…_FLASH…_

THERE! He must have missed it a moment ago…somewhere between the light and dark…

Spock felt icy adrenaline once again flood his body, and his eyes were instantly cleared.

A spot of dull gold, and a heap of black.

His throat tightened, a for a moment pure, undiluted fear rendered him motionless- useless. _What if…?_

But just for a moment, no longer. He ran, flat out, rain pelting his numb skin, feet sloshing and splashing and slipping through water and mud, and-

He fell to his knees, and his eyes took in the dark form lying before him.

…_FLASH…_

Something dark matted Jim's hair. His eyes were closed. He felt heavy, and Spock's fingers were dead to any buzzes of Jim's lifeforce…

He refused to affirm his fears. He picked Jim, his Captain, his friend, his brother, his _t'hyla_ up from the ground, pulled him to his chest, and ran.

* * *

-O-

_Present Day, Two Months after the events on Galacia Prime_

_USS Enterprise, en route to Planet Earth_

-O-

Spock stared at the glistening black box before him, draped in the blue and white flag of the United Federation of Planets.

"Captain."

He half turned his head to acknowledge the intruding presence.

"Acting Captain, Doctor."

McCoy bit his lip, but let it go. "Spock- everyone's looking for you. I found your communicator…Starfleet Command wants to talk about procedure once we dock."

"Thank you, Doctor. I must have misplaced it. I have been…distracted of late. Please relay the message to my quarters."

He turned back to the center of the room. He made no move to leave.

McCoy stepped even with the tall Vulcan. "Spock…he's not here. That's not _him_ in that casket. You've got to…accept…" He broke off, suddenly unsure of his own emotional stability.

Spock remained silent.

The doctor cleared his throat. "It'll be waiting in your quarters, when you're ready."

He turned and walked out.

Spock didn't see him collapse against the cargo bay doors, finally giving in to gravity as he slid down the metal wall, and McCoy didn't see Spock sink to the floor, leaning against the cool black coffin, so close but infinitely far from the person he wanted to see most in the universe.

* * *

**A/N - If you're confused about the timeline, here's how it went- the events on Galacia Prime happened, a month passed, then Chapter One happened. THEN, the this last scene was a flash forward a month later, two months after Galacia Prime.**


	3. Chapter 3: Home Again

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter Three: Home Again

~-O-~

He was my North, my South, my East and West,  
My working week and my Sunday rest,  
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;  
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,  
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,  
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;  
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

-Excerpt, 'Funeral Blues', W.H. Auden

* * *

-O-

_USS Enterprise, docked. Earth Spacedock, Standard Orbit, Planet Earth_

-O-

After three years in deep space, charting new systems, discovering new planets, and contacting new species, Jim Kirk was finally coming home. At the very least of all that had happened, Jim was where he belonged. He was not vaporized on some godforsaken alien planet, or floating lifeless in the dark vacuum of space. He was _home._

Or at least that was the thought consoling a good number of crewmen aboard the _Enterprise_. For Leonard McCoy, it held no such consolation.

Because it was a lie. Jim had been home for the past three years- probably for the first time in his life. It wasn't Earth, or even _out there_, that intangible place among the stars. Home was where the heart was, and Jim Kirk's heart had been with his family.

Not with Winona Kirk. Not in Iowa. Not since George Kirk's blue eyes had started to stare out at her from her youngest son's face. Ghosts hung in the dusty farmhouse, tangible in the silence of the rooms, and especially present on that never celebrated or acknowledged day in March. Normal boys had birthdays. Normal boys had mothers that saw _them, _not long dead fathers with electric blue eyes.

No, Jim's family was his crew. Their lives rested on his shoulders, their hopes and dreams floated in the back of his mind, ever present. Their spirits ran thick through his veins. He lived for them, fought for them, and the final act of devotion, died for them.

And the two closest to him, his brothers, his confidantes, his flank on each shoulder, were now missing their point. McCoy glanced over at Spock. His dark eyes were dead. He stood even with him a few feet to the left, just enough room for one more person…

McCoy's fists clenched white and he focused his eyes forward to the docking bay doors. His dress uniform felt ill-fitting and inappropriate. It probably had little to do with the actual cut of the fabric- it had been replicated to a custom fit, thanks to the physical specifications stored in the Starfleet database. The last time he had worn it, he, Jim and Spock were shaking hands with the Galatian _Dominatae_.

The light above the dock doors suddenly turned green and an alarm sounded, echoing through the bay. He saw Spock stiffen beside him, and McCoy took a subtle step closer while the Vulcan deftly straightened his uniform one last time.

The groan of heavy metal shifting and a low hiss of air held the room still, and the doors slid open.

Two red-shirted security officers stepped over the threshold and stood at attention. One of them pulled a small electronic device to his lips, emitting a series of high pitched whistles.

The Admiralty stepped through.

There were two of them. Given the circumstances, Starfleet had brought out the big brass. Rear Admiral Paris was expected. He was the flag officer running the gigantic operation that was Earth Spacedock, Starfleet's primary space station and the Federation's first foothold into open space. Only 40 years old, he was the Admiralty's poster boy. His sharp grey eyes and dark brown hair contrasted with the woman to his right.

Uum Hatim Khadija al-Jameel bint Haidar ibn Nadir, or Admiral Khadija, stood tall and intimidating, her stern demeanor made slightly glorious by her dark bronze skin, wide brown eyes, and inky black hair. Her cheekbones were high and regal, her nose prominent. Everything about her was sharp, intelligent, intimidating. She was a strict follower of protocol and a stickler to the rules. The Admiralty adored her and she prospered there, much more so than she had in a Captain's chair. She also had a sharp political mind, and had a talent for spin and doublespeak- she was often the Flag Officer chosen to break news to the press, with whom she had kindled a close relationship. At 53, she was on a fast track to higher ranks- it was expected to be a day not far in the future that she would be wearing the brass of a Fleet Admiral.

They were wrapped in the red and white of Starfleet Command, metallic gold clamped their wrists in Admiral's stripes, and piping of the same color trimmed the edges.

"Captain Spock. However averse the circumstances, it's good to have you back home."

Spock stiffened at the address, but dipped his head slightly. "Admiral Paris."

Paris seemed to wait for further response, but Spock gave none. He bit back a sour frown, quickly schooling his features into what McCoy assumed was a professionally neutral expression.

Khadija cut the silence.

"Well, Captain. I'm afraid you and the good doctor will have to wait until you brief to meet family and friends. Obviously we have a lot of questions to ask and issues to sort out before any public statement can be made. We can't risk either of you coming into contact with the press. Our people will unload the body, and we'll escort you to Command HQ. You'll be debriefed by Fleet Admiral Leto."

McCoy almost choked on his tongue, but managed to cover it up with a coughing fit. Khadija fixed him with a piercing glare. He quickly got a hold of himself.

"Doctor. May I assume you are fit for your debriefing? We will of course adhere to protocol if you have any pressing medical concerns."

He shook his head and gave the only correct answer.

"No ma'am. After you…"

She nodded, and turned back through the corridor, Paris on her heels.

Spock gave him a pointed look before following.

Leonard rolled his eyes and hurried after with a frustrated curse.

* * *

-O-

_Office of Fleet Admiral Julius Leto_

_Starfleet Command, San Francisco, Earth_

-O-

McCoy slouched deeper in his chair and yanked open the shoulder flap of his uniform, letting it hang open and vent some of the heat toasting his core. His fingers drummed on the armrest, and he glanced up at the chrono on the opposite wall.

"It's been three hours, Spock."

"You are correct, Doctor, though not exactly precise. It has been two hours and forty six minutes since we were escorted to this room."

McCoy frowned. "Don't you find that a little odd?"

"Admiral Khadija has already informed us that Admiral Leto will be delayed."

"I thought this was supposed to be important or something. Like if we talked to anybody the world was gonna blow up. What could possibly be keeping him for three hours? And don't you think it's a little odd we're being debriefed by a _Fleet _Admiral. Why the hell don't they have a Commodore, or a Rear Admiral do it?"

"This situation is unprecedented. And there are many possible explanations for the Admiral's delay."

"Yeah, just not many probable ones. As for being unprecedented, aren't you forgetting all the funerals we had to go to three years ago?"

Spock exhaled, and averted his gaze. "No, Doctor. I have not forgotten."

"Shit, Spock, that's not what I meant…goddammit, look, I mean to the Admiralty, Jim's not….I mean they thought he was a hotshot. Accidents happen all the time, and even though….even though he's Jim to us…to them, he wasn't-"

"Which is why there is more to this situation than we are seeing. The Captain did not inform us of all the details involved in this mission. Obviously meeting the Fleet Admiral is a result of the delicate nature of Jim's assignment."

Leonard turned back in his seat to sulk. "I'm so sick of all this bureaucratic bull shit. I just want to see my daughter and go home for a few days."

Any response from Spock was cut off as the door once hissed open. Spock stood as the man entered.

"Admiral Leto."

"Commander Spock. Good to have you back! I apologize, I was just called away from shore leave for this….er, regrettable business. Come on in and let's get this over with."

Leto was around sixty, short, and bald. He carried himself proudly, as befitted a Fleet Admiral. McCoy had never liked him. Julius Leto was pompous and bureaucratic- everything Leonard hated about the military. Every medal he had ever received hung glittering garishly on his chest. Jim's medal of commendation was shut in the box it had been presented in, shoved back in one of the drawers of Jim's desk. Still on the Enterprise.

Leto disappeared into the next room. Spock looked back down at McCoy.

"Doctor, your daughter will be waiting for you in a few hours. Starfleet will have procured proper accommodations."

He wiped a hand over his face. He _really_ didn't want to talk to this asshole about Jim. He just wanted to go home and try and…forget. He needed to get away from this place, Starfleet, these people…just get away. Somewhere. Home.

Spock held out a hand.

Leonard, slightly taken aback, automatically took the offered hand. It was odd- he had probably never touched Spock in the whole three years they'd worked together. The warm hand pulled him to his feet, leaving his skin buzzing slightly. Probably that touch-telepathy thing. _God, I hope he didn't just read my mind or something…._

He followed the tall Vulcan through the red and silver doors.

Here we go…

"So, " the Admiral sat heavily behind his desk. "Why don't we start from the very beginning. I realize this may be a difficult conversation, but I assure you gentlemen that it is a necessary one. I want to know- Starfleet wants to know- what Jim Kirk was doing out there in Romulan space?"

Spock had just organized all his fingers neatly in his lap. His eyebrows shot up marginally. "Those details were not available to the doctor or myself for obvious reasons. I assumed that you had been briefed on the nature of the Captain's mission."

"Mission? Hold on, Mr. Spock. What mission?"

"The goddamned top secret mission that sent him out there in the first place! The mission that you assholes sent him on-"

"Doctor, please. Mr. Spock, can you explain further. I've been briefed by every branch under my command, including covert ops. Captain Kirk was under no orders from us. Now, everyone's asking me why the hell he was out there and I need answers."

"NO." McCoy stood, shaking. "NO, you do NOT get to tell me that you need any fucking answers. My best friend, my fucking brother, just got killed on some godforsaken planet, on orders from _your _people- he was scared shitless and he couldn't even tell me what was wrong. Something wasn't right, and he couldn't- he couldn't even…" he broke off, furious and on the edge of tears. _'Doctor…' _He felt his throat tighten and his face felt hot and Jim…goddammit he was losing it _'Doctor…' _and this fucking asshole was just sitting there and Jim was in a fucking box somewhere _'Doctor McCoy…' _ and he didn't even care, didn't give a damn about Jim, he just wanted to fill out his fucking report-

'_BONES'_

A warm weight settled on his shoulder. The fog clouding his vision seemed to clear out at the edges. A softer voice now.

"Bones…"

Spock was standing with a hand on McCoy's shoulder. They stared at each other for a minute, until Spock pulled his hand back and quickly tucked it behind his back. He breathed deeper, reigning in emotions warring just behind his dark eyes. Without saying another word to his wide-eyed friend, the Vulcan turned back to the Admiral and lowered himself back down into his seat.

"Excuse, us Admiral. I believe Doctor McCoy is simply trying to relate that this new information is inconsistent with what we know to be true. The Captain, Doctor McCoy and myself were on Galacia Prime for negotiations…Captain Kirk was to engage in these negations for, presumably, either Starfleet or the Federation's behalf. Captain Kirk was unable to relay to us any specific information regarding the situation. The Doctor and I were there as…protection and companionship. As Doctor McCoy has said, the Captain was…distressed. For these reasons, we do not have the necessary information to ascertain _why_ he was on this mission- we do, however, know he was on a covert mission from Starfleet. I am sure, with the correct command codes, you will see that Captain Kirk received a transmission from Starfleet Command prior to our departure to the planet."

"Well, Commander, we've already checked from our end. No transmissions, of any Priority level, were transmitted to the _Enterprise_ during that time."

"Perhaps if it was a Command Code 47. There would be no record-"

"Not on the _Enterprise_ Commander, no. But even a Starfleet Command Code 47 isn't completely invisible to a Fleet Admiral. I assure you, Commander, I have the necessary resources to find out if Captain Kirk had received a priority 47. He did not."

Spock fell silent, and McCoy could see the wheels of his mind frantically searching for an answer. He leaned forward, glaring across the desk.

"Are you trying to tell me that you think Jim was on some kind of personal vendetta, on his own accord, in Romulan space? That you didn't know _anything_ about this?"

The Admiral leaned forward, leering, stinking of sweat and sickly sweet aftershave. "That is _exactly_ what I am saying, Doctor McCoy."

Spock interrupted before Leonard could punch him in the face. "Admiral, on our way back from the planet, I transmitted all of Captain Kirk's log entries to be analyzed-"

"Yes, Commander you did. The results were rather unsettling. Captain Kirk failed to record any log entries a week previous to his death, and on the day of his visit to Galacia Prime."

"Well maybe he just forgot! Or maybe if it was priority 47, he was under orders not to."

The Admiral was starting to turn a bit red. "Doctor, as I have already said, NO transmissions were sent to the _Enterprise_, of ANY kind. Even a command code 47. That is a fact. Captain Kirk was in Romulan space, without any prior communication with Starfleet Command- that is also a fact. Captain Kirk, without any instruction, recorded no log entries regarding his actions during that week of travel into Romulan Space. That is a fact. Look at the facts, Doctor, and you will see the truth. Kirk was either acting of his own accord, or of someone else's- NOT Starfleet's."

Leonard felt lightheaded, and collapsed down into his chair. The Admiral continued.

"You said, Doctor, that Captain Kirk was unusually nervous and anxious. That also leads me to believe that he was involved in something, maybe not even under his control. Or he was nervous because he was about to engage in something rather rash. We both know Jim Kirk was an officer who took action on instinct and went with his gut. He leapt before he looked. If Jim was doing something he thought was right, even if it wasn't, Starfleet couldn't have stopped him. Now, if we look at the defining moment of Jim's career, it was the Nero incident. Without jumping to too many conclusions, I think we can suppose that these two events may have some connection."

"You are inferring that Captain Kirk was on a mission of retribution." Spock stated blankly.

"Well, Nero killed Jim's father. He destroyed Vulcan, and attempted to do the same to Earth."

"But goddammit, Nero's dead! Who the hell would he go revenging on? And three fucking years later? That's insane!"

Spock was silent. Admiral Leto sighed.

"Look, Doctor. I don't know what Jim Kirk was doing out there, and I doubt I ever will. Whatever his reason, I don't intend to blacken his name before it goes on the tombstone. I'm not going to mention any of this to the press, and I doubt either of you two will. Besides necessary resources and higher ups, I haven't mentioned any details to the general Command staff. Jim Kirk will get the honorable burial he deserves."

"Then what the hell ARE you going to tell the press?"

"The truth. The probable truth, anyway. That Captain Kirk's death was accidental. Space is a dangerous place. I will not disclose the location- we don't need anybody knowing he was in Romulan territory. The public will know that it wasn't the fault of any one person- including the Captain himself. We won't be hiding anything- there are no Captain's Logs on record. Not that those are generally disclosed to the public anyway."

"So you're just going to sweep this under the rug. He had an accident- poor, reckless Jim, finally got what was coming to him. My God man, aren't you even going to launch an investigation?"

"Investigation of what? You saw the body, and you know Kirk died of a severe impact wound to the head. Your report specifically said that Kirk was found lying under a rocky cliff. A further geological scan of the _Mons Caelius_ cliffs showed unstable bedrock that is constantly under aeolian and hydrolic erosional forces. Jim was out, wandering around at night under a potential rock slide. Like I said, accidents happen."

"He was in Romulan territory! Enemy territory! What if the Romulans killed him?"

"So they threw a rock at him?"

"They might have made it look like an accident! Why the hell would Jim just be wandering around at night, admiring dangerous rock formations during a hurricane?"

Admiral Leto raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward. "I don't know. Why don't you tell me? You were there."

McCoy opened his mouth, but he found his voice was gone. The room suddenly seemed too bright, his chair seemed to be pushing up at him, the air crushing on all sides of him, thick and viscous, hard to breathe in and out, gravity was pulling him to the ground, through the floor, down to oblivion, down to the dark. _They're going to lie…they're going to cover it all up, like it didn't happen. Jim's dead, and no one will ever know why…_

Jim was too good for this, too pure and bright and gold and _good._ These people, this Admiral, they were soiling him, tainting him, ruining him. Jim's halo of light had blinked out, and now they were stamping him down into the ground, down to less than he deserved, less than his perfection. His beauty, his…unattainable goodness. It was eroding away, like sand in the wind. And everyone could point and see now, see the man who saved Earth was just like them, like everybody else. He could bleed, he could make a stupid mistake, and he could die. His death wasn't supposed to be meaningless and ordinary. He was supposed to go out when he chose, when he was dying _for _something. He wasn't supposed to be like the rest of the dirt and scum of the universe. That undiscovered country, those dark, uncharted patches of the galaxy. He was a light, filling in the blank spots with a devil-may-care smile and a promising word. He was a golden idol, and his death was supposed to be as fitting and meaningful as his life.

"Gentlemen, look. I want the both of you to take some time and get your heads on straight. The funeral won't be for a few days, there are details to be worked out. Go home, live a normal life for a couple days. After everything's said and done, the Enterprise will still be in refit and repair for awhile. I'll understand if you want to rethink your assignments during that time. A new captain will have to be appointed. Mr. Spock, your name will of course be at the top of the list if you're still interested, but protocol must be followed."

Leto stood up, pushing aside papers, and wrung his hands together. "Please, take some time. I don't want to see either of you two bumming around campus until the funeral. Go home. See your families. Think of normal, everyday things." He paused, letting his words sink in. He gestured towards the door. "I'll see you at the funeral. Good day, gentlemen."

Leonard vaguely remembered the walk back to Academy Campus, where friends and family were lodged to meet the returning crew. Spock was silent the whole way, a few steps ahead of his own shaky, almost inebriated walk.

They entered Archer Union, the hub of campus activity and Academy Visitors Center. Green, indigenous Franciscan Serpentine rock tiled the lobby, swirls of black and green, with occasional veins of red and flecks of gold and silver. He felt Spock's warm shoulder close to his own as he stared down, fascinated by the beautiful tile. Uplifted from the ocean floor, crashed upon by waves for millions of years, until some mining company cut it out, and somebody else buffed it down and cookie cut it into flat cross sections of the Earth's history. A jewel of the deep ocean. Handpicked, it now gilded the floor of Starfleet Academy, gateway to the universe.

"DADDY!"

His heart leapt to his throat.

A young voice filled with bells and a warm southern breeze chimed in his ears, and almost before he looked up, a small body and a head full of dark brown curls launched into his arms.

"JOANNA! Oh my God, my baby girl, honey sweet darling Jo…" He was suddenly and blissfully back to life as he swung his daughter around, gripping her tightly in his arms, smelling her hair, feeling her young heart beat fast against his own. The only girl he had ever fallen in love with at first sight. His Joanna…my God Georgia and home and happiness was back in his arms, and he was happy, and just for a moment, the world seemed to be spinning in the right direction.

"Baby girl, you happy to see me?" Grinning, he set her down on her feet and crouched low to look up at her. "Darling, you're all grown up, aren't you? How old are you now, baby girl?" His accent had begun to dip low and high and soften all the harsh sounds of Yankee standard.

She smiled, pink lips curling up to her warm, chocolate eyes and matching pink cheeks. "Daddy, you know I'm eleven. I sent you pictures. And you even sent me a birthday card and a present! I know you remember!"

"Course I remembered. How could I forget the prettiest girl in the whole state of Georgia?"

She pursed her lips. "Last time you said I was the prettiest in the whole of the Southern United States."

"Well, I do forget myself. I've seen a lot of people up in space- now I happen to know you're the prettiest in the whole known galaxy. What do you think of that?"

"I think you're full of hot air, that's what I think."

He let out a light, ringing laugh. "Baby Jo, you sure are gettin to be a fine young lady. Your tongue is 'bout as sharp as your mother's."

"Mamma and Tom are goin' on a cruise for a week so she said you could come stay at home with me and Aunt Leanne."

"Lee's back too? Where is she?"

"Right behind you, you good 'ol southern boy."

He looked up, and sure enough his little sister Lee was grinning down at him. She had their father's clear light blue eyes, and the dark brown McCoy hair inherited by both children. It was cut into a wavy bob that hung around her heart shaped face, contrasting with her pale skin and misty blue eyes. Her delicate nose was bridged lightly with freckles.

He gave a whoop and lifted her up in the air by her waist, giving her a spin around before dropping her back to the ground, laughing like a maniac. She pulled him into a crushing hug.

"Big brother, I sure am glad to see you." Her eyes were dancing. "It's been way too long since you been home. Carla Rae and Tom are on their big vacation, so we're stayin at Talam for a few days."

He raised an eyebrow. "Since when does Carla Rae go on vacation?"

She smirked. "Since Tom's got business on Risa. The company wants him to work out some contract with the Risans . He finally convinced her to leave Georgia for a week."

He rolled his eyes, and spoke in a lowered voice. "Maybe with the ice queen gone I can actually get a chance to see my horse again. She didn't sell 'ol General did she?"

"No, no she didn't sell your horse. Jo woulda raised hell if she tried. Besides, mom took General and a couple of your other horses and moved 'em back to Talam."

"Yeah, but I never have seen nothing to stop Carla when she's fixin to…to, uh…" His eyes drifted over Lee's shoulder to his daughter. Joanna was currently in a very enthusiastic, very one-sided conversation with the Vulcan first officer, who looked patient and curiously interested at her banter. Her eyes were shining, and she was gesturing wildly with her arms.

"…Lee, let me introduce you to someone." He took her hand and pulled her over to his daughter and Spock. Joanna turned at his presence.

"DADDY, Commander Spock and I were talkin about workin on the starship with you, and he was sayin how far away you were, and I asked where y'all could possibly be getting off to in three whole years, and he was just explain'n how-"

"Joanna, hold your horses a minute girl. Sorry, Spock, I meant to introduce everybody but I got distracted. Spock, this is my sister Leanne and my daughter Joanna. Lee, this is Commander Spock. He's First Officer of the Enterprise and a good friend 'a mine. And Joanna, you've already met the Commander."

Leanne stuck out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Commander. We've all heard a lot about you down here."

Leonard nearly face palmed, but Spock quietly dipped his head and returned the handshake for a beat before dropping his hand and tucking it back in its usual place at the small of his back. He gave Spock an apologetic look, but the Vulcan didn't seem to notice, or chose to ignore it out of politeness to Leanne.

Joanna was bouncing on her heels. "Commander, why do you have pointy ears, and why is your hair cut all funny like that?"

"JOANNA McCoy, what in the world possessed you to think that was a polite thing to say?"

She turned back to stare up at Leonard. "Daddy, I was just curious!"

"Well if you're curious, you can ask Spock in a nicer way than that."

Spock's eyes were full of amusement, his mouth imperceptibly turned up at the corners. A few months ago, McCoy might never have noticed it. But lately he was starting to pick up on all the subtleties Jim had been so adamant were in Spock's possession.

Joanna turned back to look up at Spock. "Mr. Spock, sir, may I ask why you look different than everybody else?"

Leonard rolled his eyes. A marginal improvement, but at least she took out the part about Spock's 'funny' hair cut.

"Of course, Miss McCoy. Your observations most likely stem from the fact that I am not entirely human. My genetic makeup also includes Vulcan genes. My father was Vulcan, my mother human. My physiology favors my paternal genes. Pointed ears are a physiological trait of all Vulcans, and my hair is cut in a traditional Vulcan manner."

Joanna looked slightly floored. "….oh. So you're not from around here."

Spock's lips twitched again, before he quickly schooled them back to a neutral expression. "No, Miss McCoy. I am not."

"You can call me Joanna, you know. If you're a friend of Daddy's. Only Miss Reilly calls me 'Miss McCoy'. And only when I'm in trouble."

"Very well, Joanna. If you would prefer."

Joanna grinned. "Very much. Are you coming home to Georgia with us?"

"Joanna, " Leonard interrupted, "Why don't you and Aunt Lee go over to the information station and pick out a restaurant that we can eat at tonight."

"Can Spock come?"

"We'll see. Now go on…" Lee took Joanna's hand, and with a grateful look at his sister, he watched the two of them walk over to the kiosk where a friendly cadet helped them in their endeavor. He turned back to Spock.

"The offer stands, you know. We're going to stay at the McCoy family ranch for a few days. My ex-wife and her new husband are on vacation, so Lee and Joanna were staying there this week. If you don't have any other plans, we'd love to have you, Spock."

"No thank you, Doctor. I would not wish to intrude on your family gathering."

"No, Spock, really. I…I want you to come." He rubbed his neck uncomfortably.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I will reconsider. You leave in the morning?"

"Yeah, we're staying here tonight. Probably catch an early shuttle tomorrow morning and get down there by the afternoon."

"I will contact you tomorrow, then. If there is nothing else, I should return to my quarters." He waited a beat, then turned to leave.

"Wait a minute, Spock-"

Spock stopped and turned to face McCoy. "Yes, Doctor."

"Uh…" He realized he meant to ask Spock if he had indeed called him 'Bones' in the Admiral's office. He found now, however, that he couldn't. It seemed…too close. Too close to Jim, for both of them.

"Never mind. But make sure you do comm me tomorrow. I mean it!"

He nodded, and left.

* * *

**A/N:**

**FYI: It's explained mostly by context, but here's the definition for Starfleet Security Code 47:**

**SSC 47 communications are directed to the Commanding Officer of a starship or starbase. They are not to be disclosed to ship or base command staff, and no acknowledgement or log entry of the communication is to be made.**

**Oh, in the mean time, if you want to read a great story about McCoy in the south, read audi katia's Bleedme Blue.Its fantastic, and a real inspiration to my writing. Also read Light, Flash, Crack. Because its ridiculously good and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. They're both Jim/Mccoy. I'm a K/S shipper myself, but these are wonderful.**


	4. Chapter 4: Falling

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter Four: Falling

~-O-~

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,

These leaves that redden to the fall;

And in my heart, if calm at all,

If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,

And waves that sway themselves in rest,

And dead calm in that noble breast

Which heaves but with the heaving deep.

-From Tennyson's _In Memoriam, _XI

* * *

-O-

_Officers Quarters, Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth_

_01:39 hours_

-O-

Spock hesitated.

Correction.

He did not hesitate. Hesitation implies uncertainty, which is a fear of the unknown. Fear is an emotion.

If Spock were to, theoretically, possess the emotions which his Vulcan upbringing and physiology had made impossible, Spock could be feeling fear at the moment. He would because certain human social parameters would determine his present situation to be 'awkward'. And in awkward situations humans, quite logically, experience nervousness. The feeling of nervousness is another result of uncertainty. Of fear.

All of this ran through Spock's pristinely organized mind very, very quickly as his finger, quite purposefully, pressed the entrance indicator to Nyota Uhura's quarters.

A beat.

Perhaps Nyota was asleep. That would be logical, considering the normal human sleep pattern.

He pressed the indicator again.

A few seconds later the door hissed open and revealed a very exhausted Nyota Uhura. Her annoyed expression quickly fell into a look of concern.

"Nyota. I do apologize for the interruption, and for the early hour-"

She shook her head. "Spock, shut up. C'mon in." Her long nails lingered on the door frame as she turned back into the dark apartment.

It was just as he remembered it. The last time he had been inside…approximately three years ago. Just before the _Enterprise_ was sent on her first five-year mission. When they were still engaged in a physical relationship. His glance slid to the dark bedroom door.

"Don't worry, I wasn't sleeping. Can't seem to without the damn engines…" She trailed off, swallowing hard. They both knew that wasn't the only reason.

She motioned to the couch. It was L-shaped, tucked into the corner of the room under an elliptical shaped window cut deep into the wall. Stars were visible through the soft white fabric blinds pulled down. The couch was meant for lounging, the satiny purple seat dipping down to a curve, cradling the occupants. Spock sunk into the familiar cushions, feeling himself relax marginally. He closed his eyes, and let his head drop back, breathing deeply.

He would always care for Nyota. He knew this deeply, though far more than he would ever admit to himself. She was the first person he had ever let his guard down around. He remembered those long afternoons and evenings, first spent in his quarters. He had been reluctant to let her in…inside his life. But she had been so persistent. So…determined to know him, really. She would cook for him while they were studying Vulcan, discussing cultural differences revealed in the cadence of the words, the logic of grammar and structure, how thought processes are literally different _because_ of the language, not just a translation of universal thought patterns. All she had ever wanted to do was study language. Every language ever spoken. She was brilliant, an observer in the same vein of his own scientific study. But she observed people. How they carried themselves, what they chose to say and do, their conscious and unconscious body language, across a variety of cultures. She was the first person to read him. She was the first person ever to come close to having him figured out.

He found himself letting go around her. Only while they were totally alone, but for her, it was progress. The occasional upward turn of his lips, the rare joke. They were cryptic, but she always figured them out and laughed out loud, sweet and tender.

But he couldn't do it. There were painful nights when she would prod him, _"_What's wrong?", an innocent question, a loaded gun. He could never tell her. She would never understand…completely. She was a kind of therapy for him, but a cruel one. He could pretend that he was human around her. It never worked, it was a game. A glimpse of a world and a life that he could _never_ have. That voice, deep down inside him, _"You are Vulcan. This is illogical. You do not feel. You have been in the presence of humans for too long."_ And just as deep, _"You're a failure. You can't pretend you don't feel. You aren't a Vulcan. And you aren't a human. You fit in nowhere, and you'll never belong anywhere or to anyone. You're a freak and a half-breed, and you're alone. You'll always be alone."_

"Nothing."

And so he turned his back on her, tucking a hand under the cold pillow and closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep. She slid down a moment later, her back to his. Quiet tears. Long nights.

"I can still hear him."

He opened his eyes and looked down at her, curled in on herself, feet up on the edge of the couch.

"It's….it's his voice. I mean, after all these months, I almost can't remember how he looks, its fading and, it's funny but his voice I hear. _So_ clear still. Sometimes, it's at the edge of a conversation, sort of faded in the background. Or at night…I don't even know what he's saying. Or if he's really saying anything rational at all. It sounds so real, like he's just hovering over my shoulder or something. It's always on the tip of my ear and I…I almost miss it. But it's there. And…I want to hear it. I think if it stops, then he'll really be gone."

She closed her eyes. "And if I concentrate hard enough…" Her head tipped slightly sideways. "...there." She smiled. "I can see him. Only if I remember something he said to me. Then I can see his face." Her smile widened, now a grin. "God, and those blue eyes. I've never seen anything like them." She opened her eyes and looked over at him. Her smile faded.

"Spock…" her fingers reached up to ghost over his jaw, his cheekbones, sliding to a rest behind his ear. "I know you're hurting, baby. Please, let me help you."

He couldn't say anything. He had come so close…just like he had come close with Doctor McCoy back on the Enterprise, the day before they got to Earth Spacedock.

So he compromised.

"Could I…could I be permitted to sleep here tonight." He said quietly, looking down. "With you?"

Her hopeful face, teetering on the edge of disappointment, collapsed in relief. "Yes, yes of course you can Spock."

She pulled him up, and walked back to the dark bedroom, flipping on the lights. He slipped off his shoes near the door, and unzipped his grey uniform jacket. Nyota pulled open a drawer and rifled through the contents.

"Here…these should fit." She handed him some sweats and a soft t-shirt. He held it up to read _'Starfleet Academy Water Polo._' On the back, '_Archer_' with a large number 14.

Nyota blushed. "It's Charlie Archer's. Gaila and him used to date, and she kept those in her room. After I was cleaning out her drawers….I kept some stuff. They reminded me of her more than him. All I remember was he used to have his stupid beagle with him every time he came over. God, I mean _every time_. I'd leave, and his tie would go on the door, but the damn dog was still in the room with them…" she trailed off, clearing her throat.

He pulled his undershirt off, and slipped the soft cotton over his skin, and then the sweatpants. The routine felt comforting, familiar. He didn't need to hide, or go into the bathroom to change. Nyota was already in pajamas, and pulled back the covers, climbing into bed.

He switched off the light, bathing the room in starlight. The sheets felt cool, his shirt and sweatpants soft and warm. He noticed that she had turned the environmental settings to a more comfortable temperature for him. She snuggled back against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. There wasn't any tension, any pressure. Just the comfort of each other and the tempting call of sleep.

Spock's eyes gave into gravity, and fell shut. He listened to the sound of Nyota's breathing, pulled in her scent, heard the faint hum of the environmental systems. Probably too faint for a human ear…

And he was asleep.

* * *

-O-

_Quarters of Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Starfleet Academy, San Francisco, Earth_

_0354 hours_

_-O-_

_A glaring white sun scorched red orange rock, contrasting with a cobalt blue sky. Cloudless. Sweat poured down his back, heat radiating from every pore. _

_Steadying himself on a small ledge, he reached over to the three cams anchored into the crack veining up the cliff face. One by one, he pulled them out and clipped them back to his harness. The rope tightened from above him, and he reached out for the next hold, hauling himself and continuing up the sheer rock. That was the last anchor to clean, and he could see the rope disappearing over the larger ledge jutting out above him, about 50 meters away. The last part of the pitch was convex, and his muscles screamed in protest at every move. The next hold was just out of reach. He knew exactly why Jim loved this route- Spock secured his left hand, backstepped and rocked his weight to his left foot, edging it close to the wall. His right hand and leg were free. He took a moment to assess his position and chalk his right hand. He looked up, focused on the hold, and jumped. _

_He heard a loud whoop from Jim, and his right hand scraped reassuringly against the rough sandstone. His head tilted up as he swung from the hold, to see sweaty blond spikes and a sunburned face lean over the ledge above him. _

"_HAHA! DAMMIT, SPOCK, THAT WAS A HELL OF A DYNO!"_

_They were almost to the final pitch of Sheer Lunacy, a Class IV 5.12 day long climb in Zion, Utah. The six pitches had taken them all day, and the exhaustion was starting to show. Once Spock reached the belay station where Jim was anchored in, he could rest awhile before switching leads with Jim and then make the final ascent. _

_Somehow, he maneuvered the last 10 meters and slapped a hand up on the ledge. Jim reached down and clamped Spock's wrist, hauling him over the lip. Not caring about his usual composure, Spock collapsed in a shaded vertex of the small oasis of solid ground. Jim threw him a water bottle and unhooked his equipment belt, falling down beside Spock to share the small patch of shade. _

_Spock ran a hand through his damp hair, and futilely tried to wipe the stinging sweat from his eyes. _

_Jim chuckled. "Spock, I've never seen you make a jump like that. You're always so goddamned careful."_

_Spock raised an eyebrow. "It was the only viable option. If there would've been a more…logical alternative, I would have taken it."_

"_That's such bullshit! You know you just wanted the adrenaline rush."_

_Spock's brow lowered thoughtfully. "I do not believe I have ever expressed a desire to intentionally experience an 'adreneline rush'. Why would anyone wish to induce such a survival response, similar to fear or panic?"_

"_Because it makes you feel ALIVE, Spock."_

"_How illogical. Do all humans tempt death to feel 'alive'? It seems an inherent contradiction. Or is this a physical exercise of compare and contrast?"_

"_Yeah, you could call it that. Its like…to know how awesome it is to be alive, you've almost got to lose it…just for a second. To be so close, feel it slip out of your fingers. And when you know you're ok, when you're not going to die…" He closed his eyes. "The air is sweeter, the breeze is cooler…everything is just so much more vivid, and real somehow. Like you never really saw everything before. You know?"_

_Spock took another drink. "I believe I see your logic, however flawed. Human reasoning inevitably fails, since it is based in emotion. However, looking at your argument from a purely human point of view, and assuming emotions are a logical part of your reasoning process….the argument could be considered…not entirely unsound."_

_Jim's bark of laughter echoed over the canyon walls. _

_The sun dipped lower, bathing them in more shade. He stood and walked to the edge, breaking into the sunlight. Gold washed Jim's torso bronze, sheened in sweat. Spock's own planes of skin seemed paler than usual. Jim had talked him into wearing climbing shorts instead of his usual full body suit of abrasion resistant durnylon. There was something faintly grand about the feeling of a cool wind whipping up from the canyon, wicking the sweat from your bare skin, all the while the sun is beating down, hot and cold. _

"_Hey, Spock."Jim slid back down to sit on the sandstone._

"_Yes, Jim."_

_Jim was turning a rock over and over in his hand, memorizing its texture with his hands. Spock stared at the rock as Jim's voice washed over his ears. _

"_D'you…do you ever think you'll get married?"_

_Spock looked sharply up. The rock still held Jim's gaze and attentive touch. The sun's glare eclipsed Jim's gold spikes for a moment as he leaned back, searing Spock's vision. He could still hear his voice. _

"_I mean, I know you had that girl you were like, bonded to or whatever."_

"_T'Pring is dead Jim. She was on Vulcan. That arrangement is no longer valid for obvious reasons."_

"_I know. I mean, you told me. But does that mean you're like…done? For life, or whatever?"_

_Jim tossed the rock over the edge, but his eyes remained down._

"_Jim…why are you asking me about this?"_

"_I dunno. Just forget it."_

_Spock dropped his head back against the dry sandstone, letting silence fill the space between them. _

"_Spock, you know you're my best friend right? I mean, you and Bones, of course. But we're like…different. You and me. I mean, every shore leave, I make you go climbing, or surfing on Pacifica-"_

"_I don't recall surfing."_

"_Well, I surfed. You just swam all day. After I taught you."_

"_There is little water on Vulcan. And what is is not suitable for swimming. It would've been illogical for me to have learned to swim."_

"_Yeah, well, you're welcome. You had a little smile on your face for a week."_

"_Vulcans don't smile, Jim."_

"_Well you're not completely Vulcan, are you?"_

"_No. No, I am not." _

_Jim nodded. "Good. I'm glad. I like you better that way. Bones says you're 'unique'."_

_Spock raised an eyebrow. "Doctor McCoy said I was, 'unique'?"_

"_Well, not in those exact words. But pretty much. You two would get along great if you got to know each other."_

"_Doctor McCoy and myself are…very different."_

"_Yeah, you are."_

_Jim's cryptic answer was left unexplained as he suddenly stood and walked back to their gear. He picked his equipment belt from the ground and latched it securely around his waist. _

_Spock stood, steadying himself with one hand on the rough rock, too tired to raise an eyebrow. "Jim, it seems exhaustion is interfering with your thought processes. I need the lead belt to make the final pitch." Spock picked his lighter belt up, offering it to Jim with a nod. _

_Jim shook his head. "You're too tired still. And I want to lead this pitch."_

"_If you had expressed a desire to lead the final pitch, you should have let me lead the first one."_

"_But I wanted to lead both."_

_Spock suppressed the urge to groan and roll his eyes. Arguing would get him nowhere. _

_Instead, he pulled on his own gear, and set about clipping himself into the belay anchor already set up by Jim. He pulled up all the slack, and handed the end to Jim, who began tying himself in to start- he double checked all his gear, making sure his cams and quick draws were within easy reach, the knots were secure, and his harness was snug. _

_Spock gave a final once over to Jim's equipment, before nodding. He snapped the belay device onto the rope feeding from his harness. _

'_Belay on. Ready to climb?"_

_Jim jerked his head in the affirmative, and approached the wall, dipping his hand to chalk it. "Ready to climb."_

_Spock watched the young captain intently, feeding him slack and constantly pulling the rope down and locked in the belay device. _

_10 meters up. Jim paused to pull a couple cams from his belt, slide them securely into the crack, and snap them to his rope. _

_15 meters….Anchor. _

_25 meters. Anchor. _

_40 meters. Anchor. _

_Annoyance slipped through Spock's mental barriers as he noticed Jim was taking longer and longer intervals between his anchor points. If he fell, he would have a long way to go before the rope went taut and stopped him. _

_55 meters. Anchor. _

_He was making good time too, and taking less time to set his cams._

_75 meters. Anchor._

_90 meters. Jim stopped after the longest interval yet, and began to set his anchor. _

"_SLACK!" he yelled, echoed endlessly by his own voice bouncing off the canyon walls._

_Spock let a little more slack through the belay, gaze fixed intently on Jim's stance, his holds, his posture…he seemed steady. It only took one slip though. _

_He was taking a little longer than usual and seemed to be fumbling with his gear. He hadn't gotten the cam in the wall yet, and was still trying to unclip it from the loop on his belt. Spock set his heels and tightened his grip on the rope. _

_He saw it all. _

_Jim finally pulled the stubborn cam loose, and reached up to insert it in the crack, pivoting around, left foot balancing on a hold, the other wedged in the crack. Jim's weight shifted to the side, reaching, and his left foot slipped. _

_The canyon walls shook to life with Jim's sharp scream._

_He skimmed the rock for a millisecond before his right foot caught, jerking him upsidedown. But he didn't stop…_

_Spock now felt of a rush of adrenaline that was definitely not pleasant. His stomach was in his throat, and he felt oddly like he was not in his own body, instead rushing to meet the young human on whom his gaze was completely fixed, flying down towards the ground. _

_The anchor point, 15 meters down, caught for an instant, and pulled free. _

_Spock acted without thought. He loosed the belay device and began a stop-slip pattern, reducing the fall force on the rope. The next anchor…the rope pulled taut….NO!_

"JIM!"

Spock shot up in bed, eyes blown open, chest heaving. The dark around him danced with images, ghosts, reverberated with Jim's scream…

Sweat plastered his t-shirt to his chest, and he could still feel the breeze, the hot sun, the dry chalk under his fingernails, sunburn starting to prickle his cheeks. Adrenaline flushed hot cold through every fiber of his body.

_Jim's limp body jerked to a stop as the rope pulled taught on his harness. The cam held. The rope stretched elastically, and Spock let his feet lift off the ground as the rope pulled him up , decreasing the drop force as much as possible. _

That's what happened. He had stopped Jim's fall….the anchor had held. Jim was fine…shaken, but alive.

So why did he feel like he just saw Jim plummet all the way down? He had a sick feeling in his stomach. That last cam…he could see the rope go taut…and just before he woke up…

It pulled free.

He shivered. He was regaining his surroundings. He could no longer feel the sun or the breeze of the canyon. The air conditioner was blowing icy air onto his soaking chest. He was absolutely freezing, but a fever was shivering it way down his spine, and his insides burned hot. His head felt swollen and hollow, and ached terribly. His emotions were all over the place, his mental shields were completely blown down. He felt unbalanced, out of control. He wondered irrationally if this was what it was like to be completely human.

"Spock? Computer, lights."

Light slashed through his retinas, slamming back through his brain, pounding the sides of his skull.

Soft warm hands cupped his face. "Spock? Spock. Come back to me, baby. C'mon, Spock. Tell me what's wrong. You're alright. You're gonna be ok."

He let himself be pulled into her embrace, giving into fear and desperation and despair, as Nyota stroked his hair and wiped his brow and rocked him gently, whispering words he couldn't understand. His mind flashed back to years and years ago when he was a child, and his mother had comforted him in the same way. Before he realized the foolishness of such actions. Before he saw his friends muttering and whispering behind his back, before he knew what 'human' even really meant.

"Spock…what did you dream? Why did you yell out his name?"

He closed his eyes.

She waited.

"It was…we were climbing." His voice was shaking.

"You and Jim went climbing often on shore leave. Was this…was it a memory? Or a dream?"

"It started as a memory. We were in Zion. I think…it was our last shore leave on Earth. Before we left for the five year mission."

"You two had fun on that trip."

"Jim fell."

"I remember. Jim had a vid recorder. No helmet, of course, but he must've had it somewhere on him. He showed all of us the footage. It was 150 foot fall. You saved him, though. Spock, you saved him from that fall."

A pause.

"It was 164 feet. The cam pulled out from the wall. He fell another 20 meters after that."

"But you were belaying, Spock. You anchored him after that cam broke. You did exactly what you were supposed to do in that situation. And he was fine."

She waited, stroking his hair back.

He swallowed. "Dreams are…irrelevant." His mind began the painstaking process of piecing its delicate framework back into balance. Logic, reason, order. "The outcome makes no difference to the present situation." He slowly sat up, pulling himself together. Nyota watched him sadly, slowly letting her hand drop from his shoulder, ghosting down his arm. He sat motionless, trying to regain his faculties.

"Spock…Leonard talked to me earlier this evening. He said he invited you to go down with him to Georgia until the funeral."

"He did extend an invitation."

"Well, maybe you should think about it."

His back stiffened.

"I know you think you're needed here, or maybe you're just telling yourself that this is where you feel closest to Jim. Near the _Enterprise_. But Jim's not there, Spock." Her voice cracked, and she blinked back tears. "He's not going to walk around some corridor, or strut out onto the Bridge, or be waiting for you in a turbolift. And that cam is going to break _every_ time, Spock. There's nothing you can do, and nothing you could've done. He's gone."

Spock shot straight up. He stood for a moment, before heading for the door.

"Spock, wait!" He could hear the tears in her voice, her heart breaking.

But he couldn't really find any room to care. The walk back through the corridors was forgettable. He collapsed back on his own cold, empty, dark bed and watched the sun rise slowly over San Francisco Bay. When it was light enough to see, he grabbed a duffle, and threw a week's worth of clothes and amenities in it. He zipped it up, threw it by the door, and picked up his communicator.

* * *

-O-

_Cochran Station, San Francisco, Planet Earth_

_0628 hours_

-O-

Spock watched McCoy shift restlessly in his seat. He wasn't voicing his discomfort, or giving any conspicuous physical signs. Just that small shift, a strained expression, white knuckles gripping the armrest.

He leaned down and spoke lowly.

"Doctor McCoy, you appear in distress. May I inquire the source of your concern?"

"No, Spock, you certainly may not." He shifted again, angling towards the window, the blind already pulled down shut.

Spock watched the Doctor's profile closely. "There are several plausible explanations for your current anxiety. Possibly, you are experiencing a feeling of nervousness regarding your return home, which you have not visited in several years. Another, that you are experiencing these same feelings in regard to my presence at your familial home."

"Spock, that's ridiculous. I invited you-"

"And, a third possibility. You are experiencing an irrational phobia, most likely aviaphobia. This is the most logical conclusion, as you did not appear to manifest these symptoms until boarding this shuttle. Also you have consumed a variety of anxiety medications and alcoholic beverages, which further supports my conclusion."

McCoy's mouth dropped.

"A curious affliction, doctor, for a man as rational as yourself. I do wonder how you managed to cope with a career in Starfleet. Starfleet does carry out its practical operations in-"

"Space, I know." He stared at Spock a moment, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

Spock gave him a questioning look. McCoy shook his head.

"It's nothing, just…Jim said almost the exact same thing to me the first day I met him."

A silence fell, filled with the noise of the shuttle's impulse drives spinning up, the dull dyne of chatter, Lee shushing Joanna's jittery streams of nonsensical babble a row ahead of them.

"I'm uh…I'm glad you decided to come."

Spock realized he didn't have a logical response. He could've extended a formal thanks for the invitation, or an impersonal comment about how he was looking forward to observing human behavior in the rural South, or how he was only taking the Admiral's explicit advice about getting off campus.

Instead, he simply nodded.

A rumble shook through the small shuttle, but was quieted as the inertial dampeners kicked in. Leonard's head fell back against the head rest, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

The thing was, Spock's logic was failing him all over the place. His mind seemed unbalanced still from the previous night's dream, and thought was becoming a bit precarious. At least, that's what he told himself when he realized exactly what he was doing.

His fingers closed around McCoy's cold wrist. He could feel ligaments strained tight against the pulse point. Before he could react, Spock closed his eyes and sent a wave of calm warmth and tranquility, willing it to flow through the small physical contact connecting him to his friend.

_Nam-tor hayal, let'theiri. __Dakh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na'fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak._

Spock breathed and forced himself from the connection, residual thoughts pulling away like thick syrup, stubbornly hanging on. He opened his eyes, coming back to himself. He looked over to McCoy.

"Doctor…I must apologize. I do not know…."

"N-no…Spock, its fine." He breathed in and out, eyes a bit unfocused, before turning to face Spock. "Actually…thanks. I feel…great. Calm." He raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what the hell you did…but whatever it was…well just ask next time. But thanks."

Spock nodded, and folded his hands in his lap. McCoy relaxed down into his chair, unwinding his muscles, stretching out his limbs. He looked over to the window, and pulled up the blind. Red gold sunlight poured through transaluminium pane, highlighting bronze and red streaks in the dark bangs growing long and falling into the doctor's eyes.

"Almost home…" he sighed.

"Indeed…Doctor."

He looked over at Spock, smiling, and dropped a hand to his shoulder, causing Spock to jump slightly.

"It's Leonard, Spock. Just call me Leonard."

Spock raised an eyebrow.

Leonard just laughed out loud, and gave Spock's shoulder another slap before settling deeper in his seat for the journey home.

* * *

**A/N-**

**Vulcan Translation:**

**Nam-tor hayal, let'theiri. Dakh pthak. Nam-tor ri ret na'fan-kitok fa tu dakh pthak.**

**Be calm, be at peace. Cast out fear. There is no room for anything else until you cast out fear. The 'cast out fear' mantra is one from Surak's teachings.**

**Thank you ALL who reviewed and especially if you PM'd me or talked to me or something. I was talking to a couple people, who I couldn't really say much to because it would give away the plot! Remember, there's a lot more stuff to find out. What happened on Galacia Prime? Why was Jim in Romulan space? What's going to happen to the crew now that they're back to Earth?**

**A couple days down in Georgia, then they go back for the funeral, and then….well, you'll find out in chapter 5 or 6.**

**FEEDBACK? Tell me what you thought of the climbing sequence. And the conversation between Kirk and Spock. Did you like the Uhura dynamic? Enterprise reference! I had to slip an Archer in there somewhere, maybe Jonathan got married. Charlie, names after Trip, would've been his grandson. Still got the polo gene, though! Oh, and look out. T'Pol will be showing up in later chapters!**


	5. Chapter 5: Surviving

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter Five: Surviving

~-O-~

_Not to make loss beautiful,  
But to make loss the place  
Where beauty starts. Where  
the heart understands  
For the first time  
The nature of its journey._

-Gregory Orr

* * *

-O-

_About 15 miles south of Savannah, _

_Chatham County, Georgia, United States of America, United Earth_

_19:22 hours_

-O-

At any given moment, in this galaxy alone, there are billions of suns setting on hundreds of billions of planets, each sunset different and exotic and beautiful.

You can go half way across the galaxy to watch twin suns set on a desert planet in the Alteres System, huge red behemoths hanging low over the horizon, burning the sky tangerine and turquoise and violet in the exotic gas atmosphere, singeing the thick clouds with hues even more vivid. You can watch Vega set from Alpha Lyrae. Blue white hot, more a concentration of light and color than a distinct circle, clouded heavily by thick blue methane choking the rocky core. Brandeis and Prussian and light Azure and streaks of deep Sapphire, all blazing and vibrant, highlighted by Vega's eternal ultramarine fire.

These are the wonders the universe has to offer.

There's no reason then, for a Georgia sunset to be considered anything out of the ordinary. A typical M-Class planet orbiting a medium sized yellow sun, located in a relatively unremarkable system in the Alpha Quadrant.

But a Georgia sunset really isn't like anything else in the universe. That, at least, was the opinion of Leonard McCoy. Warm clear gold light filtered through the dark branches stretching overhead and cast long bars of shadow across the clear glass canopy, darkening into a tinted polarization closer to the dashboard. The green grass looked gilded in gold, sweet Georgia breezes circulated through the ventilation system, and a tint of pale Carolina blue was left in the orange sky. Shades of lemon, goldenrod, and liquid amber seemed to filter the light, a kaliedascope flecked with pine and emerald, persimmon and coral, carmine, fuscia, and amaranth, rose, scarlet and alizarin, sapphire, cyan, and cobalt. Sounds of birds chirping, the wind combing its soft fingers through the grass and trees.

Finally, he was home, and maybe just for awhile, he could forget the past couple of months.

The passenger next to him, however, was going to make that rather difficult.

Leonard glanced over at Spock. The side of his head was resting against the cool glass, and only his profile was visible. His eyes were hidden under dark lashes and closed lids, and his eyebrows slanted upwards into a smooth brow, usually wrinkled by an almost perpetually turning mind. The exotic upsweep met the curve of his pointed ear, regal and alien. Dark hair, while well brushed and perfectly in place, was starting to grow longer, inching down his jaw bone, the nape of his neck, his forehead.

And he was perfectly asleep, for the first time in what Leonard suspected must have been weeks.

Yes, he was home. Surrounded by his family and shadows of simpler times. Maybe, he thought, he should never have invited Spock here. Maybe he should've left him to deal with his own pain, a world away in San Francisco. But almost instinctively he had reached out, _help me, come with me,_ ….even _I need you here…_It was ridiculous, really. Spock reminded him of every good memory during the last three years, but now they were tainted and glazed with pain and loss and grief. Spock was a walking reminder of Jim, _he's dead, he's dead, he's dead…_

So why? Why did he want Spock with him?

It was a simple answer, of course. Psychology 101. He didn't want to forget. Even remembering with pain was better than being happy with nothing. Ignorance should have been bliss. But it wasn't. It was…emptiness. He was consciously doing this to himself, reminding himself of Jim, inflicting this deep, terrible pain on himself. Willingly. He simply could not forget.

Spock was pushing himself up, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. His voice was rough from sleep.

"Doctor."

"We're a couple miles from the ranch." He paused. "And this is my home, Spock. I'd appreciate if you'd leave the title back with the ship. I do have a name."

Spock adjusted his gray academy uniform and studied the landscape flying past the tinted glass.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Indeed."

The conversation died quickly, and Leonard felt an uneasy urge to coax more from the quiet Vulcan. Which was odd, really, because he'd always been fine with uncomfortable silences.

"Leonard-"

"Yeah." He answered a little too quickly.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I was going to enquire upon your family ranch. You referred to it earlier as Talam."

"Yeah, its Gaelic for 'Earth'. Not the planet, but more like the land, the connection between a person's soul and the soil. The McCoy's were Irish, and immigrated here in the 19th century, before the American Civil War. They were cotton growers. The house and most of the land have been in the family ever since."

"Does your family still cultivate agricultural produce?"

McCoy smiled. "No, the farm never really recovered after WWIII. But the McCoy's then were able to keep it in the family, and pass it down the generations. My parents love horses, so they raise a few and ride 'em. Mom keeps chickens. But it hasn't been a working ranch in a long time."

He glanced up at the rear view mirror. Lee was gazing, lost in thought, out the window. Joanna was lying slumped over in her lap, sleeping.

"What are your parents' occupations?"

"Well, Ma was a school teacher. Taught English at Saint Andrew's for thirty eight years. Now she just takes care of the ranch."

"And your father?"

Leonard cleared his throat, shifting his eyes to the back seat. Lee was still sitting motionless, eyes unfocused, staring out the window.

"Lee, why don't you wake Jo up? We're almost home."

"Sure, Leo." She nudged Joanna, who started to stir

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing.

The car slowed on the gravel, and turned into a tall wooded gate, stopping by a small post that had an ancient key pad hidden under a sliding panel. Leonard keyed a five digit code, and the gates clicked mechanically, opening by a pulley and weight system.

Lee smiled from the back seat. "Home sweet home." She reached up between the seats and clapped a hand to Spock's shoulder, smiling out at the setting sun, voice dipping into a deeper southern lilt.

"Welcome to Talam, Spock."

* * *

-O-

_Talam Ranch_

_Chatham County, Georgia, United States of America, United Earth_

_20:10 hours_

_-_O-

The gleaming black automated taxi crunched over the gravel drive, and Spock strained to get a better look out the window.

Soft green grass was starting to yellow and die with the closing of summer, cooling into a crisper autumn veneer. Tall, magnificent oak and magnolia trees rose like ancient kings, stretching their strong and tired arms skyward, every finger unfurling to the dim golden sun.

Cresting the gentle slope of the hill, the McCoy family home was revealed.

Like the spirit of the Old South itself, the house was waning relic, still proud and glorious through decay and old age. Four white columns rose from the red brick and Greek revival moulding. Huge French windows opened to the soft evening breeze, and a wide wooden porch wrapped around a semicircular patio area. Vines, deep green and leafy, climbed around the dusty windows and up to the roof, tangling around the columns. The white paint was chipped and faded, badly in need of another coat.

About 50 or so feet away was a giant red and white stable with a fenced-in round pen, floored in loose brown dirt.

A high whinny carried across the yard as Spock stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut.

A soft, sweet breeze immediately brushed over his senses, overwhelming….peace.

McCoy clapped a hand around his shoulder. "C'mon, Spock. I want you to meet my mother." He let his arm drop, and started down the hill, across the rusty dirt to the stables.

Spock watched as Lee and Joanna tumbled down after him, and after a beat, followed.

The ceiling of the stable vaulted up some thirty feet, sunlight filtering down to the wood floors in white shafts, and the smells of red maple and pine wafted over Spock's senses. On either side of him, narrow stalls lined the walls halfway down the length of the barn, before ending in a large open space. A horse and rider galloped past, and Leonard yelled something, before vaulting over the gate barring the large open area from the stable promenade. Spock watched from a few paces back as, presumably Leonard's mother, jumped from her mount into her son's waiting arms.

_You shouldn't have come._

A voice, deep within his conscious, deep beneath the walls, suddenly rose up and echoed through his head. . _You're in the way…this isn't your family. That woman is not your mother, and you don't belong here. You are NOT human, and this isn't going to bring her back, and it's not going to bring Jim back either. _

Spock suddenly felt terribly uncomfortable and uneasy. These thoughts were…illogical. He was here, and he couldn't leave now. Leonard had invited him…then again, he could just excuse himself, and catch the taxi. It should be returning on autopilot any minute. He could make up some excuse and explain logically why he had to leave. There were things back at the academy he could be doing, things that required his expertise, the door was right there, maybe he could just-

"Spock! Hey, c'mere a minute. Ma, this is Spock, I've told you about him-"

Spock pushed the uncomfortable feelings down deep, as he was trained to do, as he had always done. He stepped over to Leonard, who pulled him over with a hand on his shoulder.

Mrs. McCoy was a fascinating example of her species. She was…very unlike his own mother at first impression. She was tall, only an inch shorter than her son. Dressed in blue jeans and a western shirt, she breathed the retro look of those humans who still lived vicariously in the 21st Century. This woman, however, did not have the ridiculous manner of a person posing out of time. She had an air of practicality, of use, of energy and strength. Her cropped silver hair was tucked behind her ears, and the same pale misty blue eyes of her daughter peered out from hooded eyes. While Lee's seemed playful and delicate, Mrs. McCoy's had a hard, icy edge to them.

"Yes, Mister Spock, I've heard quite a bit about you." Her voice had a deeper, natural dip to it, untainted by Northern Standard. "I'm Helena McCoy. It's a pleasure to meet you." She stuck a hand out.

Leonard quickly cut in. "Mom, Vulcans don't-"

Spock took her hand, and shook it, ignoring the inevitable shocks of residual emotion shooting up his arm. Curiosity, happiness, peace, and something like relief.

Leonard shot him a grateful look.

"As am I, Mrs. McCoy. I would like to extend my gratitude to you and your son-"

"Not at all, Mister Spock. You'll be staying with us, I presume, until the funeral."

"Mom, I invited Spock-"

"I believe I was talking to Mister Spock, Leonard."

"Mrs. McCoy,"

"And Mister Spock, though I do reserve the privilege of calling guests by the more formal of their names, I selfishly deny you that same privilege, and ask that you call me Helena. Mrs. McCoy was my mother-in-law's name, God rest her soul and I seem to have passed the age of 'Miss' some time ago."

Spock canted his head in the affirmative. "Very well, Helena."

Helena grinned, and nodded. "Mister Spock, I think I am going to like you. Very much."

Suddenly there was a burst of warm, moist air on the back of Spock's neck. He turned, alarmed, to come within an inch of a very large, pale blonde and white muzzle pushing towards him through the bars of the stall behind him. He tried to take a step back, but Leonard came around to his side, a hand still on his shoulder.

"Spock, this is Dylan."

The young doctor stepped forward, holding a hand out. Dylan pushed her nose down into Leonard's hand, and he rested his forehead on hers, whispering soft words. He leaned back, smiling into her large, brown lashed eyes. He turned to Spock. "C'mon, Spock. Come say hello."

Spock raised an eyebrow, but complied nonetheless. "I would remind you, Doctor, that speaking to a non-sentient being is highly illogical."

"It's Leonard, Spock. And horses understand a lot more than you give them credit for. Here, just…" He stepped aside, motioning for Spock to take his place.

He could have politely declined, expounded more on the irrational human practice of personifying non-sentient beings. But of course, as he was finding more and more these past few days, he was unable to do so.

He stepped up to the horse.

Dark lashes curtained huge, clear brown orbs.

"She's a palomino. She-" Dylan pushed her nose into Spock's neck, braying deep in her throat. Spock reached a hand up to steady himself. His fingers grazed her soft coat.

"She really seems to like you.."

He reached up again, and his mind brushed the horse's…He felt a raw conscious, fueled by powerful emotion and primordial instinct.

He pulled his hand back, cradling it in the other. Leonard looked at him sidelong, an eyebrow raised in curiosity, but said nothing.

"You boys ready for some dinner?" Helena called over from the round pen.

Leonard pulled his eyes from Spock after a long second. "Yeah. Yeah, Ma, I think that's just what we need."

"Well good, I've got a chicken in the crock pot, some greens ready to throw on the side, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a loaf of bread in the oven. I'll take care of the horses. Leonard, maybe you could show Spock to the guest room so he can get settled, and tell Lee she can start settin the table. Make sure Joanna keeps her little fingers out of the dessert, too."

"Dessert?"

"Chocolate cake, but don't touch it until after dinner. I don't trust you any more than I do Joanna."

"Momma you do spoil a man."

"Yes, and I know it. Now git, we don't have all night."

They turned and started for the huge barn doors.

"Spock…are you ok? You look a little green around the gills."

"Most likely due to the chemical nature of my blood, Leonard."

"Goddammit that's not what I meant Spock."

"I am aware of this, Doctor."

Leonard glanced over at Spock's placid features. At first he couldn't see…Ah HA! The gleaming amusement shining in his dark eyes, and an almost-but-not-quite-successfully-suppressed smile.

"Leonard." He looked down at his now grinning friend. "I am fine. Thank you, most sincerely, for your concern. Sensing another mind, especially one as emotional as a nonsentient being, is…sometimes stressful to Vulcan mental parameters. Their emotion exerts stress on our own mental barriers. However mine are perfectly intact, and there is no cause for concern."

Leonard slipped one hand in his pocket and another on Spock's back, leading him back into the cooling night air.

"You're welcome, Spock."

Soon Spock's things were all in place, the table was set, and everyone was digging into their plates. Spock had piled a very large amount of salad and mashed potatoes (sans the gravy) onto his plate, to the amusement of Helena McCoy, who was quickly informed of Vulcan eating habits with a quick whisper from her son.

Joanna shoveled her plate down within a few minutes and was politely excused to go play with the horses.

Leonard watched her go with a sad smile, and turned back to Lee and Helena, seated across the table. The smile faded.

"Does she remember Jim? Have you told her anything?"

Lee bit her lip. "She remembers her Uncle Jim, but its faded. It was three years ago she last saw him, when you two came down here before the big mission. She remembers the model of the Enterprise he gave her. She remembers when you two went riding with her that summer. I told her what happened, but I'm not sure she really realizes…I'm just not sure it really sank in."

"No, I wouldn't have expected it to. She's just too young. Doesn't understand."

Helena poured herself another glass of wine. "I'm not sure I do either, to tell the truth. Keep expecting him to bang through that front door, charming the hell out of me because he's late, gulp down some food and take Jo out on a ride. It's just not real yet."

Leonard stared down at his fork, intensely aware of Spock at his side. He knew exactly how real it was for the both of them. They had had two months for it to sink in, two months of bad dreams and haunting visions, two months of empty chairs and half-closed doors and ghosts hanging in the air. Voices…whispers in the dark.

Lee and Helena had soon cleared the table for desert, and a three layer, dark chocolate frosted beauty of a gâteau was placed on the dark mahogany table. Before Spock could protest, Leonard cut him a large piece and set it in front of him.

"There's no eggs in this recipe, don't worry. It's delicious, try it or my mother will take it as a personal insult."

Spock cocked an eyebrow, but raised his fork to his mouth and took a careful bite.

Both eyebrows rose to his hairline, and Spock's dark eyes widened.

"Fascinating."

Leonard grinned.

"I told you you'd like it!"

Spock swallowed, and washed it down with a gulp of water.

"Indeed."

He took another bite.

* * *

Leonard had suggested a walk around the property after dessert, and Spock was very glad he'd complied. The two of them were now meandering down a beaten dirt path skimming the surrounding forest. A cool breeze caressed Spock's heated cheeks, and his brain was still humming pleasantly since he had eaten that delicious cake. Cake…perhaps he should ask Helena for the recipe, and he could program it into the ship's replicators. Replicators seemed to ruin even the simplest dishes so often though. He said as much to Leonard, who grinned brightly, transforming his face.

"Doctor McCoy, I have not often observed that expression on your face. I find most often you are frowning or angry. Perhaps you should indulge in the practice more often."

"Touche, Mr. Spock. And its Leonard."

"Very well, Leonard. I believe you may drop the title from my name as well."

"Spock, you seem…chattier."

"I have deducted the most likely explanation for my present physical and mental state is inebriation."

"Vulcan's can't get drunk on anything but Romulan Ale…besides, you didn't have any wine."

"Doc- Leonard. Doctor Leonard….hmm…I should…would, have thought you more informed on xenobiology."

"I didn't specialize in Vulcan inebriates, Spock."

"Vulcan metabolisms…do not tolerate the terran cocoa bean very well."

Leonard stopped in his tracks. Spock turned lazily, a soft smile forming.

"You're telling me Vulcans can get a buzz from CHOCOLATE?"

"Affirmative."

Leonard's eyes widened.

"Then why the HELL did you eat that cake?"

"Because you implied that I would risk offending your mother, something which would make this week very uncomfortable for both you and Helena. I did not wish that to happen."

Leonard frowned. "That sounds like an excuse. I think you just wanted to get drunk."

Spock turned and continued walking down the dusty path, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I will admit the sensation I am currently experiencing is…quite agreeable."

Leonard jogged to keep up. "Dammit Spock, next time we get the chance I'm taking you out for a drink. I'll buy you a hot chocolate."

"I do not believe I have had the pleasure of consuming that particular beverage."

"You've never had hot chocolate?"

"Affirmative."

"Goddammit Spock, quit talking like that."

"Specify. To what does 'that' refer to?"

Leonard shook his head, grinning. "I'm beginning to think Jim was right."

Spock glanced sideways at him, waiting.

Leonard cleared his throat, now regretting mentioning Jim. But Spock didn't seem to be overly affected, and the almost-not-there smile still graced his lips.

"Jim used to say you argued with me just for the fun of it. Because you enjoyed 'pushing my buttons'. I told him 'that's ridiculous, green blooded emotionless robots don't have sophisticated senses of humor.' But now…I'm starting to wonder…"

"Once, my father was off planet. Vulcans do not celebrate birthdays, but…my mother could not seem to rid herself of that particular Earth custom. She would always have a present. On my tenth birthday, she took the opportunity of his absence to bake a traditional chocolate birthday cake."

"Let me guess. She had a tipsy ten year old Spock on her hands."

"It was not one of my more….logical moments." Spock's eyes were dancing playfully, and Leonard's grin widened.

"You said she used to give you presents. That sweater one of them?"

"You are suggesting either poor taste on my part, or on that of my mother's."

"I said no such thing. It was a simple question."

"That birthday I received a compilation of the works of Lewis Carroll."

"You've read Alice in Wonderland?"

"I prefer Through the Looking-Glass myself. She used to read it to me before I slept each night. It seemed illogical- I could've read it myself. But I found it…comforting."

Leonard looked up. "Child of the pure unclouded brow, and dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet, and I and thou are half a life asunder, thy loving smile will surely hail the love-gift of a fairy-tale."

Spock's tenor voice joined softly. "I have not seen thy sunny face, nor heard thy silver laughter; no thought of me shall find a place in thy young life's hereafter- enough that now thou wilt not fail to listen to my fairy tale."

Leonard took over, delighted at the sudden discovery of a shared passion. "A tale begun in other days, when summer suns were glowing- a simple chime, that served to time the rhythm of our rowing-"

He broke off, suddenly uneasy.

Spock finished, voice sobered of its previous cheer.

"…whose echoes live in memory yet, though envious years would say 'forget'."

There was an uneasy moment of silence, and Spock's soft, careful intonation of 'forget' still hummed around them.

"Spock, we need to talk."

"Regarding?"

"Jim, Spock. We need to talk about Jim. About what happened, and what all this shit with Starfleet Command means. We need a game plan."

Spock looked over sharply. "Game plan?"

"When we get back to Starfleet for the funeral, we need to know exactly how we're going to go about this. The Enterprise is gonna be in space dock for awhile, so we've got time to talk to people but we need to know who and how we're going to approach everyone. It's a tricky position but-"

"Doctor, I am afraid I require clarification. To whom are we talking? And concerning what?"

McCoy stopped and turned. "Spock, maybe Starfleet is gonna ignore this whole thing but I'm not. Jim didn't die on that planet for nothing. We need to find out exactly why he was there. Someone knows something. Maybe Command, maybe Black Ops- but somebody knows."

"And how do you expect to find these people?"

"We are just going to have to do some discreet asking around."

"Leonard. Jim's accident was two months ago. On a planet beyond the Neutral Zone, in Romulan Space. Even if there is someone who knows why Jim was there, which is highly unlikely given the evidence presented to us by Fleet Admiral Leto, the fact that Jim was killed will greatly dissuade said person from coming forward. Especially after a very public funeral and after the press reports their version of the story."

."We've got to try, Spock."

"No, Doctor. We do not."

"Why?" Leonard stepped closer to Spock, fuming at the Vulcan's passive face. "Why the hell are you turning your back on this? Why are you giving up?"

"Because it makes absolutely no difference. Jim is dead. Knowing why he was on that planet will not change the circumstance." Spock felt suddenly cold, the comforting fuzziness in his head completely gone. "He was not murdered, or killed in action. It was an accident- a statistical improbability. There is nothing you can find, no possible reason that justifies his death. "

"BUT HE SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN THERE, SPOCK! IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW HE DIED, a Starfleet Captain never should've been in Romulan Space, flying a fucking shuttle through enemy territory down to some strange planet without a security team, without the fucking ship in orbit, NO backup, NOTHING!"

"HE HAD US! He had me." Spock's voice shook, eyes wet. "I should have saved him. I should have kept him out of that situation. I was too late."

"Spock…" Leonard grabbed his shoulders. "Spock, you can't do that. You can't do that to yourself."

Spock shrugged out of his grip, stepping back. "It doesn't matter. Nothing-…" He closed his eyes, gathering himself. Tear tracts shone on his pale cheeks. "I need to meditate. Balance my mind. I am finding it difficult…" Avoiding his gaze, Spock turned and started back to the house.

Chest heaving, Leonard lowered himself to the ground before his knees could give out on him. His head felt light, and he dropped it to rest on his knees.

_Jesus, I'm losing him…I'm losing him._

* * *

Spock pulled open the screen door, and turned the cold silver door knowb, silently praying the rusted hinges wouldn't give him away.

Shutting the cold air out, he stooped to remove his boots, focusing his buzzing mind to the task of efficiently angle his foot to slide cleanly from each foot, balancing with one hand on the door for support. The cold wood now burned the nerves of his feet, protected only by a thin layer of sock. He would never get used to Terran climate. The slightest cold seemed to seep deep into his skin, wrapping icy fingers around the marrow of his bones.

His mind still reeled from the conversation with Leonard. Spock's reaction had been inappropriate, emotional- human. And worse, he had stormed off like a small child. He knew what he had to do. Meditation cold soothe the heated synapses of his brain, submerging his throbbing, scattered mind under cool, clear water. The screaming nerves would quiet under a placid surface of calm order. Logic. Serenity…peace.

"Mister Spock."

Spock froze mid stride to face a figure across the room, hunched over and silhouetted by the orange glow of the fireplace.

"Mrs- …Helena. Good evening."

She stretched her tall sturdy frame, cracking a stubborn neck muscle.

"How was your walk?"

"It was…satisfactory." Not a lie. The walk itself had been satisfactory exercise.

"I see." She paused, and Spock noted the neglected inquiry of her son's whereabouts.

"Come sit with me for a while, Mister Spock. Warm your bones by the fire."

He nodded in acquiescence, folding himself into an old brown leather armchair.

They sat in silence. Spock's mind was quietly calculating the appropriate amount of time he should allow before excusing himself to bed.

"Relax, Mister Spock. I can hear that fantastic mind of yours clicking away."

Maybe it was the soothing heat. Maybe it was his body responding to her verbal orders. But he found himself obeying. Conscious thought drifting, muscles releasing their death grip, porous bones steaming out the cold in response to gold orange heat. He sank a little deeper into the soft leather cushion. Helena's voice pulled him slightly forward.

"When David died, I changed. You see, that's what happens when you lose someone you love. Because you don't just lose them…you lose part of yourself. And so you're forced to change. It's how you survive."

She paused, clearing her throat. Spock was aware that his entire being had somehow been sucked into her voice, the sound of it, every word she uttered. He was aware that what she was saying, was vital, could not be ignored. He tilted his head imperceptibly, letting the soothing waves of that southern lilt carry him up and down, up and down…it smelled like hickory and musty hay, sounded like a horse whinnying high and free…felt like…

He closed his eyes.

"Leonard was never the same. After David, I mean. You might not believe it, but he used to be a happy person. Smiled a lot. Laughed. He believed in people. That's why he became a doctor. Always wanted to be one, ever since he could walk- Leonard just wanted to help. Somebody. Anybody….everybody. And then David got sick…so very sick. Leonard thought he could cure him. If he just tried hard enough, worked long enough. He put his heart, his very soul into finding a cure. It was bad enough when David passed…but then, just six months later- it was a miracle, they all said. The biggest medical breakthrough since Flox's vaccine for Hodson's Phage. It nearly killed Leonard. It destroyed what little was left of his marriage. I can't blame Carla, really. He wasn't the same man. Wasn't fair to her."

Helena took a breath, and stared back into the white hot depths of the licking flames, orange light dancing off her weary and drawn features.

"It was messy, with Joanna. But Carla wasn't gonna leave her with Leonard. She didn't want to do it, but it was for the best. Leonard wasn't in a good place, certainly couldn't have handled raising a kid in the state he was in. He went up to Chicago for a little while with an old roommate from med school, who'd started a practice. I barely heard from him all that year. I finally got a letter, saying he'd enlisted in Starfleet, and was leaving for San Francisco that very week."

A smile slipped onto her face, slow and gentle. "And finally, six months later I get a message that he's got a couple months for summer break, and is coming down for a visit. And he was bringing a friend."

The smile widened into a grin, and Helena looked over at Spock, resting her chin in her hand. "The first time I saw Jim Kirk, I knew he was trouble. Too damn attractive for his own good, and way too damn charming. I was workin this little yearling in the round pen, outside. When horses are abused or neglected, agencies find them and bring them to people like me. Thunder. Black as ebony, beautiful little Arabian stallion. Anyway, I'd been workin him for a year, and had got to where I could mount him and ride around a bit without freakin him out. He was still skittish, and wouldn't let nobody but me ride him, or even work with him."

Her gaze returned to the fire. "So I was pretty nervous when I saw my son drive up with this friend. I got off and was gonna put him back in the stable, but the boys were up to the gate. So I've got Thunder by his reins, and all of a sudden he goes real still…and he's just starin at this beautiful blue eyed boy right next to my son. The boy is just starin right back. Anyway, I say hello, still holdin the reins, and walk up to Leonard, I was so glad to see him. Leonard was smiling…he looked good. We were talkin, and Leonard goes to introduce me to Jim and I look over and Jim's got a hand over Thunder's nose, and his forehead touchin the horse's…and you could just see it…the horse, every muscle in his body just…settle. And Jim's whispering something in his ear, and they're just breathing in each other's air…that was Jim's horse from then on. He rode him every day that summer. And Joanna came to visit, and all three of 'em would go out. Jim visited every summer for three years, and every winter break and all the three day weekends and every other little break they got. I never asked why they never went to see Jim's family…Leonard mentioned he was from Iowa. But it wasn't any of my business anyways."

"I hadn't seen my son that happy in a long time. And when I heard Jim died…I knew I probably wouldn't for along time. But when he said he was comin down here…with you…it gave me some hope, Spock. Because he needs you. And you need him. Spock, listen to me very carefully."

He met her eyes over the orange light and shadow. Black brown to misty blue-grey.

"It is vital that you understand this. You must help each other now. You need, each other. You both have deep wounds from Jim's death…but I know how close you both were to him. You can find him in Leonard, and he can find Jim in you. Spock, I cannot lose my son. I came too close nine years ago. And I won't go through that again. I am asking you, Spock…begging you…to help my son. Help Leonard…and he will help you."

Spock closed his eyes to the dark, flickers of heat licking at his eyelids.

_"Spock, take care of him."_

_"Jim?"_

_"Bones. I mean, if something happens to me. Take care of him."_

_"Jim, this is hardly the appropriate moment-"_

_"PROMISE me, Spock." Jim was suddenly crawling over to Spock, kneeling beside him, eyes pleading._

_"Promise me…just, please…"_

How could he keep this promise? To Jim…to this woman now. He couldn't even keep his own mind balanced. How was he to offer the emotional support these humans seemed to need?

A memory…so long ago, years, maybe.

_Sitting in the dark…Jim's quarters at the Academy. It was raining outside, tapping at the windows. Night time…in front of a fireplace, like this one…_

_It was after their climb at Zion, still a few months before the 5 year mission…_

_Orange liquid flickered in and out of Jim's blue eyes, an unblinking stare into the flames._

_"Jim."_

_"Yeah, Spock."_

_"You are experiencing the psychological affective state known as guilt, are you not? The feeling that one has done something one should not have done, or in your case, the opposite."_

_Jim chewed the inside of his cheek, and took a sip from the bottle he was holding…almost cradling._

_"That would be the clinical definition, yeah." Jim's voice was cold, short. His eyes were bloodshot, and there were deep, dark circles bruising the thin skin underneath. Exhaustion and insomnia seemed to fight an unending battle on every bone, muscle and sinew, pulling him apart inside and out._

_"May I point out that you are laboring under the false preconception that emotions are an accurate indicator of moral correctness. In such cases logic is-"_

_"Logic. Is that what I'm supposed to tell myself when the species is gone? When the last Katarian is dead. That it was logical." Jim's voice cut in sharp, edged with something rough and ragged._

_"The species was undergoing a natural evolutionary process. Interfering in that not only violates the Prime Directive, but could have possibly affected the evolution of the other co-dominant species."_

_"The Jad'ha wouldn't have been affected. They were an intelligent, industrial species. They could've helped- they just didn't want to. Their medical technology was sufficient but they didn't even try- they just let that virus kill those people. The Federation had an obligation to intervene. Applying the Prime Directive in that circumstance is bullshit."_

_"You cannot assert that. There is no possible way to predict the result of a Federation intervention. The virus was a natural one- helping the Katarians could have upset the naturally developing ecosystem, in turn hurting the Jad'ha. Classically, planets generally support only one form of dominant intelligent life. There are exceptions, but the natural equilibrium of the universe usually supports one. It is not our place to question the natural development of a species, or a consequential extinction."_

_"What if those had been Vulcans down there- and the Romulans were the ones turning a blind eye and doing nothing. The Federation would have intervened-"_

_"Both the Vulcans and the Romulans are warp-capable species, one of which is a member of the Federation. The Vulcan people would send an order of distress-"_

_"So they would've asked for help. If the Katarians had been warp-capable they would've known there was help out there- they just hadn't made First Contact yet-"_

_"And in such circumstances the Federation could've intervened. But there was no distress call and in a pre-warp civilization the Prime Directive clearly-"_

_"THAT IS SUCH BULLSHIT, SPOCK. YOU…Jesus, you, of all people…"_

_"Me of all people. Please clarify your implication." Spock's voice had gone flat, his eyes dipped beneath a blank, frigid dark surface of apathy._

_Jim stood up, leaning over Spock's seated form accusatorily. He spoke in a low, deadly whisper, full of anger and hurt and Spock's chest squeezed just-_

_"Those people…are gone. Dead, because we stood by and did NOTHING. Nothing, Spock. Have a little fucking empathy. You should know because it almost happened to you. And don't tell me you can't empathize because we both know you can. You know what it's like to be an endangered species. And I bet you wouldn't wish that on anybody else."_

_Spock stood. Jim's eyes were dilated, blown black with alcohol and the dim light._

_Voice cold and emotionless. "You are inebriated."_

_Jim scoffed. "Not that drunk. You're avoiding the inference."_

_"That I would wish extinction on another sentient species."_

_"No. That if the Vulcans had caught the virus, and the Prime Directive forbade intervention-"_

_"That hypothetical situation is irrelevant. If the Prime Directive were to forbid such an intervention the Vulcans would not be a warp-capable species and a member of the Federation, and I would not be here with you to discuss moral dilemmas."_

_"You're avoiding the question."_

_Spock swallowed the black anger threatening to cloud his mind and fill his chest. "I am in no position to answer the question."_

_Jim nodded, and finished off the glass bottle, darkened gaze still fixed on Spock._

_"Well I am." He laughed mirthlessly. "I fucking have to be."_

_Spock swallowed again, controlling the emotions boiling up behind the thin walls Jim was shaking down. He nodded his head very slightly, and turned his back, striding out the door._

_It was dark in the corridor._

_Rain pounding against the glass._

"Spock."

Spock jerked back suddenly, eyes flying open.

"Mister Spock…are you alright?"

Physically his core temperature had dropped a degree or two, and a cold sweat had broken through his pale skin, soaking his sweater and leaving tiny icy beads on planes of exposed skin. His breathing was rapid and shallow, and he felt dizzy and lightheaded. Mentally he was in adequate condition, but his mind still needed the quiet calm of meditation.

"Mister Spock? Did you hear me?"

He turned to the voice in the dark. The fire had died down slightly.

Before he could answer, the screen door swung open with a creak. Leonard's mumbling curses were heard under the sharp *BANG* as the door snapped shut on rusty springs.

Leonard glanced back at Helena, still shadowed in black shadow and flickering orange.

He realized then that he was failing….failing himself. Failing Jim, something he'd promised himself would never happen. And he was failing Leonard…and now this woman.

_"Take care of him…"_

Jim's last words.

And he realized that failure could possibly be inevitable. He didn't even know what he was really failing to protect Leonard from. Some dark, nameless place, into which Spock had already taken a few, somber steps.

But he could try.

He said the only thing he could say. It was not a promise, not an answer. But it was something.

"He is my brother."

And Spock saw the tightness around her eyes relax, saw something release back into the dark air of the room.

She smiled.

Spock heard Leonard kick off his shoes and cross the room, socked feet softly creaking on the old wooden floor boards. He sank silently into the couch between his friend and his mother. The three of them sat staring into the fire, getting no answers. Asking for none.

"Spock…"

Spock tilted an ear to Leonard's low voice.

"I'm sorry." He cleared his voice, shifting his weight. "For yelling. I didn't mean all that…" His face was drawn and tight, a five o'clock shadow deepened in the dramatic light, dancing off dark brown eyes and tousled black hair.

Spock nodded. He stood, and for a moment he saw hurt and disappointment flicker over Leonard's closed features.

He held out a hand.

Leonard looked slightly confused. Spock knelt, and took his hand, turning it up and hooking his thumb around Leonard's and locking their hands together in a firm grasp.

_"Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim. S'ti th'laktra, t'hy'la."_ Spock's voice dipped low and rumbled over the soothing, familiar rhythm of his mother tongue. Their eyes locked.

Leonard looked down, then back up, an eyebrow raised. It was not a gesture of surprise, merely one of acceptance. He nodded.

"I'll, uh, see you in the morning then."

Spock rose to his feet, letting their hands slip apart. "Of course. Good night, Leonard." He glanced over at Helena, and nodded. She smiled warmly, nodding back.

Spock's footsteps faded up the stairs. Leonard glanced over at his mother, who had risen from the couch.

"He seem ok to you, Ma?"

"He'll be alright. And so will you."

"I just don't know anymore…It's too much."

"Things will get better. They always do."

"Yeah."

Helena left for bed. Leonard watched the fire fade down to a deep red glow, fade…fade….fade into the dark. His eyes slipped shut on the dying embers. Dead into the night.

They were cold by early morning.

* * *

NOTE: On the use of 't'hy'la'. I've explained this to some people. T'hy'la has multiple meanings as you all know. All express deep love. Not just sexual. So you see my point here. This story will NOT be Spock/Bones slash.

NOTE: On Vulcan phrases.

"Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim. S'ti th'laktra, t'hy'la."

There is no offence where none is taken. I grieve with you, brother.

**THIS CHAPTER IS FOR SHATTERWING. You know why…;)**


	6. Chapter 6: Hearing Voices

Broken

Storyshark2005

* * *

Previously, on _Broken_:

-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-

_"Spock, take care of him."_

_"Jim?"_

_"Bones. I mean, __if __something happens to me. Take care of him."_

_"Jim, this is hardly the appropriate moment-"_

_"PROMISE me, Spock."_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_But just for a moment, no longer. He ran, flat out, rain pelting his numb skin, feet sloshing and splashing and slipping through water and mud, and-_

_He fell to his knees, and his eyes took in the dark form lying before him._

…_FLASH…_

_Something dark matted Jim's hair. His eyes were closed. He felt heavy, and Spock's fingers were dead to any buzzes of Jim's lifeforce…_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_McCoy stepped even with the tall Vulcan. "Spock…he's not here. That's not him in that casket. You've got to…accept…" He broke off, suddenly unsure of his own emotional stability._

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_The Admiral was starting to turn a bit red. "Doctor, as I have already said, NO transmissions were sent to the Enterprise, of ANY kind. Even a command code 47. That is a fact. Captain Kirk was in Romulan space, without any prior communication with Starfleet Command- that is also a fact. Captain Kirk, without any instruction, recorded no log entries regarding his actions during that week of travel into Romulan Space. That is a fact. Look at the facts, Doctor, and you will see the truth. Kirk was either acting of his own accord, or of someone else's- NOT Starfleet's."_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_Soft warm hands cupped his face. "Spock? Spock. Come back to me, baby. C'mon, Spock. Tell me what's wrong. You're alright. You're gonna be ok."_

_He let himself be pulled into her embrace, giving into fear and desperation and despair, as Nyota stroked his hair and wiped his brow and rocked him gently, whispering words he couldn't understand. His mind flashed back to years and years ago when he was a child, and his mother had comforted him in the same way. Before he realized the foolishness of such actions. Before he saw his friends muttering and whispering behind his back, before he knew what 'human' even really meant._

_"Spock…what did you dream? Why did you yell out his name?"_

_He closed his eyes._

_She waited._

_"It was…we were climbing." His voice was shaking._

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_Lee smiled from the back seat. "Home sweet home." She reached up between the seats and clapped a hand to Spock's shoulder, smiling out at the setting sun, voice dipping into a deeper southern lilt._

_"Welcome to Talam, Spock."_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

"_We've got to try, Spock."_

"_No, Doctor. We do not."_

"_Why?" Leonard stepped closer to Spock, fuming at the Vulcan's passive face. "Why the hell are you turning your back on this? Why are you giving up?"_

"_Because it makes absolutely no difference. Jim is dead. Knowing why he was on that planet won't change the circumstance." Spock felt suddenly cold, the comforting fuzziness in his head completely gone. "He was not murdered, or killed in action. It was an accident- a statistical improbability. There is nothing you can find, no possible reason that justifies his death. "_

"_BUT HE SHOULD NEVER HAVE BEEN THERE, SPOCK! IT DOESN'T MATTER HOW HE DIED, a Starfleet Captain never should've been in Romulan Space, flying a fucking shuttle through enemy territory down to some strange planet without a security team, without the fucking ship in orbit, NO backup, NOTHING!"_

"_HE HAD US! He had me." Spock's voice shook, eyes wet. "I should have saved him. I should have kept him out of that situation. I was too late." _

"_Spock…" Leonard grabbed his shoulders. "Spock, you can't do that. You can't do that to yourself."_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_"Spock…"_

_Spock tilted an ear to Leonard's low voice._

_"I'm sorry." He cleared his voice, shifting his weight. "For yelling. I didn't mean all that…" His face was drawn and tight, a five o'clock shadow deepened in the dramatic light, dancing off dark brown eyes and tousled black hair._

_Spock nodded. He stood, and for a moment he saw hurt and disappointment flicker over Leonard's closed features._

_He held out a hand._

_Leonard looked slightly confused. Spock knelt, and took his hand, turning it up and hooking his thumb around Leonard's and locking their hands together in a firm grasp._

_"Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim. S'ti th'laktra, t'hy'la."_ _Spock's voice dipped low and rumbled over the soothing, familiar rhythm of his mother tongue. Their eyes locked._

_Leonard looked down, then back up, an eyebrow raised. It was not a gesture of surprise, merely one of acceptance. He nodded._

_"I'll, uh, see you in the morning then."_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

_

* * *

_

~-O-~

Chapter Six: Hearing Voices

~-O-~

weep for yourself, my man,  
you'll never be what is in your heart  
weep little lion man,  
you're not as brave as you were at the start  
rate yourself and rape yourself,  
take all the courage you have left  
wasted on fixing all the problems  
that you made in your own head

but it was not your fault but mine  
and it was your heart on the line  
I really fucked it up this time  
didn't I, my dear?  
didn't I, my...

_ -from 'Little Lion Man', Mumford And Sons_

_

* * *

_

-O-

_Talam Ranch _

_Chatham County, Georgia, United States of America, United Earth_

_06:34 hours_

_-O-_

Clear light filtered through the point lace curtains, pooling into four neat golden squares on the dully worn mahogany breakfast table.

Blue and white porcelain plates held heaps of golden brown hash browns, crisp red and white slices of Georgia grown apples, wheat toast glinting with a sheen of butter, and yellow orange egg yolks, a treasure sealed beneath a opaque pearlescent lid. Black coffee, hot and strong, to brace the bones and the spirit for a long day ahead.

Leonard dropped down in his chair reaching desperately for the pot of coffee. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Halfway through he'd snuck into Joanna's room to watch her sleep, and consequently fell into an uneasy rest in the old rocking chair by her bed. His back was still throbbing in a dull, constant ache.

"Where's Spock? Lee, pass me some of them potatoes, would you…"

Helena answered, throwing a sizzling side of bacon on the frying pan. "Went for a walk. Left about an hour ago."

"Well do you know where he went?" he asked behind a mouthful of toast, vaguely annoyed.

"No, Leonard. And if you want to put a tracking device on him, that's a conversation for the two of you. He could use a little space."

"He's had enough space these past two months. He needs to get out of his own head. Hell, I need to get out of my own head."

"Well, finish your breakfast and then you can go hunt him down."

"Where's Joanna?"

"Davey took her on a pony ride." Lee answered.

Leonard turned sharply. "Who the hell is Davey?"

"Oh relax, cowboy. He's just the neighbor kid down the road. You remember Joe Frevert?"

"Course I remember Joe. Moved to Atlanta for pharmacy school, I think."

Lee nodded. "Yeah, well he met a girl there, got married, and after his folks died they moved back down here. Davey is thirteen and Joe Jr. is getting on six or seven."

"Good Lord, Almighty. So this Davey kid…"

"Is a good boy, Leonard. He likes to take her around when she visits."

"Uh huh. What's a thirteen year old boy want to take a eleven year old girl 'around' for?"

"Maybe you should meet the boy before you pass judgment on his intentions."

"I was thirteen once. I know exactly what his 'intentions' are."

Lee snorted. "What are you talkin about? You were the most prudish little southern gentleman I ever met."

"Doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about stuff at that age."

Helena slid some bacon on their plates. "Well Davey's a gentleman right out of Gone with the Wind. If he's thinking about it, he's not acting on it."

"Doesn't matter." he shoveled down a forkful of eggs. "He's thinking about my daughter."

Lee shook her head, laughing. "Well, you'll probably meet him soon enough. Just keep the shotgun inside, please?"

"No guarantees, little sis."

"I should know that by now."

"Yeah, you should." Leonard grinned, gazing at his sister's laughing face, a few crow's feet at her pale, dusty eyes. She sobered a bit.

"Listen, Len. About Joanna. I talked to Carla Rae before we left."

"Oh. How uh, how's she doin? How's Tim?" He shoveled some more eggs into his mouth, chasing it down with a few gulps of coffee.

"Leonard, you know his name. Carla and Tom are fine. But it's about Joanna."

"Of course it is. And I'm sure whatever problem she has is my fault, right?"

"Well, kind of. Carla's actually worried that you're not around Joanna enough."

"Well that's interesting. Considering Carla took her away from me."

"Yeah. I know. The thing is, she wants to talk to you. About negotiating your custody agreement."

Leonard nearly choked on his coffee. Sputtering, he reached for his napkin. "Excuse me?"

Helena had stopped cooking. She stood leaning on the counter, arms crossed, eyes worrying over her children in the tense air that had suddenly descended on the room.

Lee shifted uneasily. "She wants to talk to you about the possibility of…partial custody."

"What? Why hasn't she talked to me about this?"

"We've been tossing it around since…the accident. But you had enough to worry about, and nothing could be done while you were out there."

"So it's better to have my sister spring it on me over breakfast."

"Look. Just…give Carla a call tonight. But I should probably, uh, fill you in a bit. She has some conditions that she's not willing to budge on."

"This oughta be good."

Lee ignored him. "Well, its more like one condition. She's willing to give you every other weekend, and a couple weeks during the summer, and holidays are open for discussion."

"I'm waiting for the axe to fall."

"Yeah. Well, she wants you here."

"Well, I can't live here. The nearest base I can transfer to is Houston."

"That's the thing, Leonard. She wants you…out of Starfleet."

"What do you mean, _out of Starfleet?_"

"I mean…she wants you to resign your commission. There's been talk that Starfleet is going to offer honorable discharges to anybody from the Enterprise who wants one. So this is your chance."

"You're saying, in order for me to see my daughter, she wants me to throw away my career? What the hell am I supposed to do for a living?"

"No, just listen. Tom's got this doctor friend in Atlanta, and he's looking for a partner to fill out his practice. He's holding off on interviews until he hears from you."

"You have GOT to be joking Lee, please tell me that you're…" But he could tell from her face. No joke.

"Jesus…"

"Look, I know it's a lot to think about. But…you might want to consider it."

"Of course…I mean, I've got to. It's my daughter we're talking about. But I…Lee, I can't just quit now. This whole thing with Jim…it's- there are things I need to do, things I can only do as a member of Starfleet. I can't quit, not right now. I just need a little time-"

Confusion creased her brow. "What do you mean, you can't? You've been talking about an opportunity like this for ages. What the hell is so bad about this? Leonard….this is it. This is your chance to get out."

"Get out? Lee, those people up there are my family. That place…it's not Georgia. But it's..it's home. There are people there I care about, Spock for Christ's sake. I owe it to them…I've got to do right by them."

"Leonard. Georgia is home. Your family is here… Mom is here. I am here. Joanna is here."

"Lee, try to understand. Jo's my daughter, and there's nothing I want more than to be with her-"

"Then be with her, Len."

"I CAN'T-" his fist rattled the plates, startling Lee. Helena dropped the glass she was pretending to wash in the sink.

"I- I'm sorry. Lee...Jesus, try to understand me here. I WANT to... But things have changed, Jim-"

"Is DEAD, Len. He's gone. And your daughter is HERE and she's ALIVE and she's growing up, and you haven't BEEN HERE, Len, you haven't BEEN HERE." Lee's eyes were dry but red and her face was drawn and desperate. "She MISSES HER FATHER, Len. You've been up in space for three years, and it's been a long time before that since she's really had a father. Ever since Dad…"

She broke off, looking away, eyes still dry. "I'm sorry, Len. I love you. You are my brother. And I've had to watch you… kill yourself over Dad, and then Carla and Jo, and now this thing, with Jim. I just…Joanna isn't getting any younger. How many birthdays have you missed? She is 11 years old and she's discovering boys, and she's so smart, Len, you have no idea. She's sharp like her mother but she is so like you, she has your heart and you don't even know it. She adores you, and you are so lucky her mother hasn't poisoned her against you, because she could've, as little as you've been there. Carla's brought her up good and has never said a word against you in front of Jo."

Leonard looked at his sister- _really_ looked at her. Good Lord, how much had he missed? Did his sister know his own daughter better than he did? How many nights had she babysat, and how many nights had he been at home with her? And it hit him-

Was this still home? He'd grown up here, his blood in the red soil, his heart pounding in the dapple gray stallion, his skin soaked in warm Georgia sunlight. But that boy…did he still exist? He remembered a conversation he'd had with Jim, some gray endless night back at the Academy, probably celebrating the anniversary of his divorce with a bottle of Jack._ "Guys like you and me, Bones. We don't have families. All we've got is each other."_ The sunlight was pale starlight through portholes and artificial sunlamps lining the corridors, and the evening breeze was the environmental conditioning system, and the red dirt had been replaced by gray panels and dark gray bulkheads, and surrounding everything was the vast loneliness of space, nothing sucking everything into night, pitch emptiness, infinite. He still woke up empty and thirsty but he had Jim and Spock, lunch and dinner with Jim and Spock and rec time with Jim and Spock and GOOD LORD he spent all his down time with one or the other. When had they become his family? Every day he'd dreamt of coming back to Georgia, but now, when he had the chance to leave space forever, settle down, really become the old country doctor he'd always dreamt of, Jesus, be able to SEE his daughter…why wasn't he jumping at that? What the hell was wrong with him?

"Leonard. Leonard? Are you ok?"

He shook himself. "Yeah…yeah, I'm…fine. I've just got to think about this. I, uh..I'm gonna go find Spock." He stood shakily and headed for the door, Helena and Lee's eyes glued to his back. He heard a 'Leave him, Lee' from his mother as the screen door slammed shut.

The narrow red dirt path twisted around the perimeter of Talam, skirting the deep, cool green woods and cutting through the gold fields of wild prairie and purple witchgrass, up the carpeted hills , Leonard stepped into old boot and hoof prints crumbling back to dust under his feet, the dirt baked dry after the rain a few nights ago.

He found Spock about a mile down the path, seated under a beautiful live oak, old as the Earth, roots twisting and digging into the soil. The air was crisp and cool, brown leaves crunching under his shoes as he left the path. He had the sudden urge to curl his toes in the cool grass, feel the earth under bare soles.

The sun was hovering halfway under the cobalt ceiling, halfway above the stretching gold and green and bronzed countryside, rolling away to the horizon.

"Thought I'd find you meditating or playing some bizarre Vulcan mind game." Leonard plopped down beside Spock, who scooted over to accommodate his friend. The Vulcan, all exotic points and graceful sweeping lines seemed to melt into the organic, wild beauty of the landscape surrounding him.

The wind tousled his hair as he spoke, dark eyes unfocused and faraway. "Meditation has proved…difficult."

"Yeah…" he trailed off, picking at the ground. "Yeah, I've uh, been havin some trouble myself, shutting my mind off. Thinkin way too damn much."

There was a silence, not entirely uncomfortable.

Spock suddenly turned to Leonard and swept a critical glance, making Leonard shift uncomfortably. "What?"

"You have been deviating from your usual grooming habits."

Leonard grinned, running a hand over the stubble peppering his cheeks and jawline. "Little five o'clock shadow never hurt anybody. Carla used to say 'it complemented my personality'. Still not sure how to take that. Besides, I could say the same to you- hair's a little ragged round the edges, Spock." He reached a hand over and ruffled the Vulcan's hair. Spock all but yelped (but of course he didn't), jumping away and (not) frantically smoothing his hair back down.

"Doctor, I do not appreciate-"

"Aw, relax you big baby. I'll still take you to the prom if your hair's not perfect."

Spock's leaned away, wary. He was still miffed, but his curiosity seemed to get the better of him. "I'm afraid I do not understand what a shadow at five o'clock has to do with personal grooming. It is not yet noon…"

He grinned, amused. "Figure of speech, Spock. It originates from the mid-twentieth century, the 1950s or 60s, start of the white collar worker. He'd shave every morning, and after a nine to five shift, he'd come home from work with a little stubble on his cheek."

Spock nodded, more comfortable on a cerebral topic. "I see. And your wife found this…complimentary to your personality? Relating the physical state of your face metaphorically to a certain aspects of your personality?"

"She said that. But I'm pretty sure she just liked the feel of it. Woman couldn't just admit it looked damned good on me. Stubborn as hell. Strong too. God damn…never met another quite like her." He shook his head, reminiscing.

Spock's brow lowered. "I admit I am often perplexed by human relationships. You for instance, speak equally derisively and fondly of your former wife. I had thought, from your many…colorful descriptions, that she had done you a great harm in your divorce. Yet you still harbor affection for her?"

"It's…complicated. I know I say a lot of things, and she did take Joanna away from me. But I wasn't exactly in any state to be raising a daughter. I knew it, but it didn't hurt any less. I mean, take you and Uhura. You still care about her even though you're not seeing her anymore, right?"

Spock's expression went blank."Lieutenant Uhura and I maintain an agreeable professional relationship."

"Uh huh. You don't fool me, you're a big softie inside. There's got to be some reason she dated you. I never could see it. What the hell happened there, anyway?"

Spock stiffened, suddenly very uncomfortable. "We decided it would be mutually beneficial to terminate the romantic aspects of our relationship."

"Mutually? So nobody was breaking it off? You just decided. Together."

"Doctor McCoy-"

"Leonard, Spock."

"Leonard. I do not see the relevance in continuing this conversation with you."

"Course it's not relevant, Spock. We're just…talkin. Gettin to know one another."

"Small talk."

"Wouldn't exactly call it small…but yeah." Leonard smiled, looking over at Spock, who was still deep in thought, dark eyes focused inward.

Leonard cleared his throat. "Look, Spock…I'm a complete mess. But I'm your doctor, and I'm your friend. I need to know how you're doing with all this.

Spock was silent, gaze focused on the horizon.

"I know you're not meditating, which must be wreaking havoc with your mental stability. You been sleeping at all?"

Spock sucked in a breath, and seemed to be close to saying something, but remained silent.

"Didn't think so. Spock…you ducked out of therapy after the Nero incident. You never talked to me about it, but I know you talked to Jim.

Spock was holding his head, eyes closed.

And to Leonard's surprise, after a moment, he spoke.

"Vulcans….are capable of managing a great deal of mental stress. After the destruction of my home planet, and the majority of my people and my culture…my mother…I reinvested my grief in constructive endeavors…contributing to the rebuilding of my people, the investigation of the Nero incident, negotiations and peace talks with the Romulan Empire. Repairing the relationship with my father. But the Enterprise was my true refuge." Spock swallowed, pulling himself together.

"Vulcan was the place of my birth. But it was ever only half of my heritage. Half of me. I was looked upon as inferior, my blood as a handicap. Earth is still…foreign to me. This is a strange planet… as are its inhabitants. Even after years of working within their ranks, their behavior and customs continue to elude my comprehension. Space offers a refuge from this…duality. It is neutral. It is an equal playing field, so to speak, for all species. I am not wholly human. I am not wholly Vulcan. But I can be wholly Starfleet. Even after all of that…I could recover. I could regain normalcy. Because I belonged somewhere. I found people who accepted me, completely, for who and what I am. But now…"

He looked ahead, eyes hard, holding back. "…I am not sure if I can recover from this."

Leonard hesitated. He didn't know what to do. Hug him? Vulcans generally didn't like to be touched. But Spock wasn't totally Vulcan. Ah, what the hell… He threw an arm around the Vulcan's shoulders and pulled him closer. Spock didn't hug him back, but leaned into his side, still curled in on himself. Leonard rubbed his shoulder, and mopped a hand through Spock's shaggy black hair, kissing his temple. That sat there for awhile, listening to the wind in the drying leaves, breathing in the sweet, cool breezes.

"Look, uh…Spock. I can't promise you anything, because I know I'm not dealing with this very well. But I do know that getting lost in dreams and memories…it's such an easy path. But it just leads to darkness and there's nothing there but death there, Spock. He's there every night, alive, just as clear and real as you saw him last and he's waiting for you…and you feel whole there and everything is as it used to be. But pretty soon you start staying in bed longer into the morning, daydreaming all day, and you're lost in it and you don't want to come out, and by the time you find that there's something worth going back to it's too late, and what was left of your real life has crumbled all around you, and all you've got is a broken life and ghosts and dreams. It almost happened to me, Spock. And I really…really don't want it to happen again. And it's not any easier this time around. Jim was something different…something special. He was my…best friend. Brother."

He felt a small nod against his chest. "_T'hy'la_." The word breathed out like air. It sounded right, sounded familiar.

Leonard tilted his head. "Was that….was that what you said, by the fire?"

"Nam-tor ri thrap wilat nem-tor rim." The words, as easily as they had the previous night, rumbled low, falling effortlessly from his lips. "It means I took no offence, and there was no need to apologize for words said in a heated argument."

"There was something else, after that though."

Spock hesitated, straightening, though still pressed to Leonard's side. _"'S'ti th'laktra, t'hy'la._' It means, 'I grieve with you, brother'. It is a loose translation._ T'hy'la_, in particular, can have many meanings. In this instance, it most closely translates to the concept of brother, either literal, or closer than one would refer to as friend. It is also used, in appropriate circumstances, to refer to one's life mate. In the Vulcan sense, however, it means all of these things. Friend, brother, lover. "

"Soulmate."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Yes."

He nodded, slightly floored with what had been bestowed upon him.

"And just while I've got you talkin'…the other day…I might have imagined it. But when we were in the Admiral's office, and I was gettin carried away and…well, I wasn't thinkin too straight. But I thought I heard you call me…call me Bones."

Spock stiffened again, and lowered his eyes. "I apologize, Leonard. I did not realize at the time what I was saying. I know now that it reminds us both of something very painful and I would not wish to inflict-"

"NO!...er, I mean….it's ok Spock. To be completely honest, I miss hearing it. And if there's one person I'd let call me that…I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable…but I just want you to know, it's ok with me. Anytime you feel like it, or if it just slips out…it's fine. I don't mind."

"Very well…Bones." The way he said it, as if he was testing it out for the first time, feeling the shape of it on his lips. But it wasn't wrong. It was like hearing the voice of an old friend that you hadn't seen in years. Spock's eyes were shining in some private amusement, a small (not) smile on his lips.

It faded slightly after a moment. "You mentioned dreams. Visions."

"Yeah. I mean, right after my father died, I started having these nightmares…but they aren't like with Jim. With my dad, he'd come back and just yell at me, and I could never understand what he was saying. It was just all the guilt, the failure. With Jim, it's like I just see his face, or I dream about some memory, something we did, or some conversation back at the Academy."

He studied Spock closer. "Now, I don't know a hell of a lot about Vulcans. But I do know that there's an awful lot going on in that head of yours that I don't understand. If you're having dreams or something Spock, you need to tell me."

Spock nodded, eyes dark. "I have been experiencing one…vision…in particular. It often starts as a different dream, but inevitably I find myself in the same situation. Vulcans, as telepaths, are susceptible to visions and psionic impressions. But I have never experienced something like this before, something this powerful. It has prevented almost all meditation, and I've found concentration and mental discipline very difficult of late."

"So it's just the one? No others?"

"I have had other dreams, memories like your own. But this one…it has been occurring increasingly more frequently, and more vividly, over the past several weeks."

He told Leonard of the climbing trip that summer, Zion, of what had happened.

"Yeah, I remember that. Jim showed me the footage. Damned fool wasn't even wearing a helmet. But you're saying, in your dream, he keeps falling…"

"Each time he falls, and the rope is about to catch on the second hold, the one I actually stopped the fall on…I see the anchor pull out and I wake up. I know what is about to happen…that he falls to his death."

"Sounds like guilt to me, Spock. But you've got to remember that you did stop him, you saved him. You saved his life that day."

"That day." Dark eyes darken impossibly.

"You gotta cut that shit out, Spock. I know I'm a hypocrite, but it's dangerous stuff you're playing with. You've got to try to get your head back on straight, this could be serious. Look, I've got this old friend from med school who studied on Vulcan before. Name's M'Benga. I'd like to give him a call."

Spock straightened and put a few millimeters between them. "That will not be necessary."

"Don't give me that. I know you hate needles but this is a lot more dangerous than anything I've patched up for you after a mission. It's either M'Benga or we find somebody to help you on the colony. We could call your father. Or 'other' you."

Spock turned, eyes wide with disbelief. "You are aware of the existence of…"

Leonard snorted, amused that Spock seemed incapable of completing his sentence. "Of course I know. Jim told me ages ago. Guess it never came up in conversation between you and me, did it? Don't worry about it, I haven't told anybody else. Speaking of returning to the colony though…I should probably tell you. I'm thinking about…reconsidering my commission. Carla wants me to leave Starfleet. Set up a new practice here in Gerogia."

Spock turned sharply. "You said yesterday you wished to return to Starfleet and investigate the circumstances surrounding Jim's death."

"Yeah, I know. It's just…if I stay here, Carla's willing to give me part time custody of Joanna. I don't know what to do…"

Spock nodded. "I have given the matter of my own return a great deal of thought. A Captaincy has been discussed…but I have no desire to command a ship of my own. Though the idea of serving under another Captain is equally distasteful. And there is always the opportunity to return to my people, and more actively take part in the reconstruction of Vulcan."

"What, settle down and have a family? I can't tell you not to do that, Spock. Having a family…it can change your life. It's a beautiful thing. Got any prospects back on the colony?"

"If you are referring to potential mates, I do not have any, 'lined up', as the human expression goes. My betrothed was killed on Vulcan."

"Jesus, Spock, I'm sorry. I didn't know that."

"There is no reason for you to apologize. It is not your fault, and in any case, I did not know her. We were promised to each other at a very young age, and I have almost no recollection of the event. She was a distant figure in my life."

"Well, I'm sorry anyway."

Spock nodded a thanks, and looked back to the horizon. Leonard felt a shiver run through his shoulders.

"Jesus, Spock, you're probably freezing out here." He stood and offered a hand, and pulled the Vulcan to his feet, almost stumbling under the unexpected weight. "Forgot how heavy you are…here, take my jacket, you need it more than I do…goddammit, that's an order."

"Doctor, I remind you of your rank, and the fact that we are currently off duty…"

"Bullshit, CMO has authority over the Captain in matters of health, and besides, when we're in Georgia I get to order you around however I want. Now put on the goddamned jacket."

Spock suppressed another small smile, and shrugged on the jacket. The sleeves were a little short, but he pulled them down over his thumbs, zipping up the thick synthetic hooded sweatshirt. It was a dark navy blue, with a red and white 'Ole Miss Med logo to the left of the zipper.

McCoy nodded, satisfied. "All right, brother, let's get inside. I've got to track down my eleven year old and call my ex-wife. Another day of sunshine and daisies."

Spock frowned. "Are not daisies, as perennials, dormant in the autumn?"

Leonard just laughed out loud and clapped an arm around Spock's shoulders, leading them back to the ranch.

* * *

-O-

_1503 hours_

_100 E Road, 2 miles from Talam Ranch_

_Chatham County, Georgia_

-O-

"So…are you just here till Thursday?" Davey looked back and up at Joanna, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun.

Joanna regarded his sandy hair and freckled face below her, holding the lead rope to Bet Yer Blue Boons, a 15 year old red roan American Quarter horse. "I dunno exactly. Mama's gonna be there too I think but she's still on Risa with Tom for a few weeks. So I think I'm stayin here. Don't know if Daddy'll stay at Starfleet or not."

"Isn't that weird, seein your Daddy after like three years?"

"A little. But we talked every couple of days when he was on the Enterprise."

Joanna paused, thinking.

"Davey…what's it like? I mean, having your parents still together? Just livin out here, in one place your whole life, never movin around?"

He frowned. "I recken I don't exactly know. I mean, I don't know anything else, I guess. It's just…normal."

"Normal. I think I'd like that."

"Ah, don't put too much stock in normal, baby girl. It's pretty boring sometimes."

"Baby? Who you callin' baby?"

Davey feigned a duck, grinning. "Whooee, I'd better be careful around all that Irish blood, boils up pretty quick doneit?"

She pursed her lips, failing to hide a smile.

"Anyways, now he's here, is he gonna stay?"

She frowned into the sun. "I dunno. I hope so."

"If he does, are you gonna get to live with him?"

Joanna swallowed hard. "Mama says he works too hard. It'd be…he'd be too busy, probably. I dunno. And she also said he's really sad now. Cause of Uncle Jim."

There was an uneasy silence. Joanna could tell there was another question at the tip of Davey's tongue.

"Can I ask you…I mean, you don't have to answer…did you know the Captain?"

Joanna picked at Bet's chestnut mane. "Yeah. I don't remember him a lot though. Last time I saw him was three years ago so I was eight. But I remember…he was really nice. And daddy always told me to call him Uncle Jim, even though he wasn't my real uncle. He took me horseback riding."

"Captain Kirk rode horses?"

"Sure. Aunt Lee said he used to ride Thunder all the time."

"Thunder? That horse is crazy, he's too wild to ride."

"Aunt Lee said every summer that Uncle Jim would visit he'd ride Thunder. Nobody's been able to ride him since."

"Wow." And there wasn't much else to say.

* * *

-O-

"DADDY!" Joanna reached out two arms and slid down Bet's dappled back, using Davey's shoulders as a brace while he grabbed her waist and swung her the rest of the way down. He quickly shoved his hands in his pockets at the hard look Doctor McCoy was currently pinning him to the ground with. He bent down to catch his running daughter, and mouthed a 'STAY RIGHT THERE' over Joanna's shoulder. Davey's eyes widened and he gulped.

He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder and he looked up to see a smirking Aunt Leanne McCoy. She bent to whisper in his ear. "Don't worry, kid. I'll make sure the shotgun stays inside."

Somehow that didn't make him feel much better.

His gaze wandered over Leonard McCoy's crouching form, where he was currently scolding Joanna, to a tall, very strange figure behind him.

_He's a Vulcan_… Davey suddenly realized. His eyes widened, taking in the alien features, resting on the exotic points of his ears. He'd only ever seen them on TV…and a second later it hit him- _this must be Commander Spock…HOLY CRAP- IT'S GOTTA BE- WHO ELSE WOULD THE CMO OF THE USS ENTERPRISE BE PALLING AROUND WITH, OH MY GOD, IT'S SPOCK HOLY CRAP WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY, ok don't panic, be cool, just don't say something stupid, he probably thinks you're some provincial southern hick, oh my god, you're doomed, you finally get the chance to meet one of your heroes, one of the guys who saved the Galaxy, and you're totally unprepared, COME ON DAVEY, think of something quick! Ok, how about 'It's an honor, Mr. Spock.' SHIT! Should I call him Mister or Commander? Commander, definitely Commander. Wait, was he technically a Captain now? No, that was just a temporary field commission, I think…Oh shit, maybe you should just stick with Mister. But do civilians use Mister? Well he is off-duty- OH GOD you're doomed. Just don't say anything, wait till you're introduced. GOD you're an idiot-_

"DAVEY!" Leanne was shaking his shoulder, calling his name.

He jumped, pulled from his mental ramblings. "WHAT? I mean, sorry, I wasn't, uh.." He was still staring at Spock, and McCoy was frowning, now aware that Davey was staring at this college. Shit! Davey, quit staring! Look at McCoy! No, look at the ground, be submissive…no, meet his eye!

"So. You must be Davey…" McCoy had a shoulder on his daughter, who was biting back a grin, eyes dancing madly with suppressed laughter.

"YESSIR! Er," he cleared his throat, and stuck out a sweaty hand. "Yessir. David Frevert. Pleased to meet you."

McCoy raised a frightening eyebrow, and ignored the hand. "Yeah, I'm sure. Listen, kid, I've got something to tell you-"

Leanne interrupted. "LEONARD. Don't you think you should introduce Spock? Don't be rude…"

Davey froze in panic as McCoy frowned but stepped back and gestured to the tall Vulcan, one hand on his shoulder.

"Sure, Lee. Davey, this is Commander Spock, you've probably heard of him. Spock, this is David Frevert. If you have any questions, you'd better ask them now, because in a few moments he's about to have a tragic accident that I was, regrettably, unable to prevent."

Davey's eyes widened. McCoy smirked, as if to say You better believe it kid, I can make it happen. They'll never find the body…

Spock nodded his head politely. "It is a pleasure to meet you, David. I would advise you to remind Doctor McCoy of the oath he took both as a medical doctor and a Starfleet Officer."

"Y-yes, Commander Spock. I-it's a real honor, sir. I've seen you on the news and everything…" he trailed off, gulping. He mentally cringed. Seen you on the news?…you IDIOT, you just made a fool of yourself in front of Spock.

McCoy let out an annoyed growl. "Dammit Spock, you're supposed to be on my side here."

Spock looked amused.

"Allright, everybody get cleaned up for dinner. I gotta go call Asmodeus herself. Spock, you can do whatever the hell you want, this might take awhile. And Davey…"

Lee shot him a dangerous look.

"…is…welcome to dinner."

Lee smiled. Somewhat evilly.

Davey nervously looked up at McCoy, whose was grinding his teeth.

"U-uh, you know, I really should be getting home…"

"NONsense, Davey." Lee interrupted. "I already called your father and told him you'd be staying for supper. I'll drive you home afterwards."

Leonard let out another annoyed growl and stocked off, muttering curses under his breath.

Joanna turned to Lee. "Aunt Lee, can we show Spock the horses?"

Lee looked over at Spock. "You can ask him, now can't you Joanna?"

She practically bounced over to Spock. David moved over to Bett, taking the lead rope from Lee.

"Mister Spock…would you like to see the horses with me and Davey?"

"I would be honored, Joanna."

She gave a little whoop and grabbed Spock's hand. He let her drag him forward to the stables, trying to keep up with her steady babble of conversation. Davey followed with Bett, smirking all the way.

* * *

-O-

_*beep*_

_*beep*_

_*beep*_

_"Hello? Tom, cut it out…Hello?"_ There was laughter in her voice, and he could hear someone else's voice in the background.

"Hey Carla."

_"Leonard! Jes- hold on a second, okay?" _ He murmured a 'Yeah, sure' even though he knew she wasn't listening._ "Tom, I gotta take this okay?No, its…just go on ahead, I'll meet you there in an hour or…I'll call you. Okay. See you then, baby. Okay…BYE Tom…"_ she laughed, returning back to the phone with a sobered tone.

_"Leonard….I'm really glad you called."_

He sat down on the bed, letting his head crack back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah."

_"I'm sorry. I'm..sorry I'm not there. I didn't know if you'd…want me there or not."_

"Jesus, Carla, you know I'd want to see you…Tim on the other hand is a different matter…what the hell are you guys doing down there, anyway?"

_"I'm not going to correct because I know you know his name. TOM and I…he had this thing on Risa, and when we got news of all this, I dunno, I guess he thought he needed to take my mind off all of it. He's…sweet to think of it."_

"First of all, it's insulting to your intelligence to think that some goddamned pleasure cruise on Risa is gonna 'take your mind' off of anything. Secondly…you hate vacations. You hate Risa. Hell, you hate anywhere that isn't Georgia. He oughta know that about you by now."

_"I don't hate vacations, travel is just stressful. And it depends who you're vacationing with, Leonard."_

"Oh…you wound me, Desdemona." He grinned, and her smile poured through the speaker. "O devil, devil! If that the earth could teem with woman's tears, each drop she falls would prove a crocodile."

She laughed, and god he'd forgotten how beautiful her laugh was.

She finally sobered up and cleared her throat. A pregnant pause. _"Leo…tell me how you're doing. I mean really- don't bullshit me."_

He took a deep breath, pinching his nose. "Not uh…not great, Carla. Not great."

_"Have you been talking to anybody about this?"_

"What, like a shrink?"

_"Good Lord, Leonard, you're a doctor. You'd tell anybody else in this situation to get counseling."_

"Yeah, well…I'm dealing with it. I just need some time."

_"You need to talk about it. Talk to me if you won't talk to a doctor."_

"Carla…" His voice gets weak and he hates it, hates it, but he can't help it and he need to say it, say it before his throat closes off all the way. Because even if he won't let Spock say it himself, he has to, he's always been a selfish bastard anyways. "…Carla, it's my fault. He's dead and it's my fault, I could've stopped it, if I could just go back and, Jesus, if I had just seen it, he was so scared, Carla, he was terrified, and I didn't listen, I didn't fucking listen, and it's my fault it's all my goddamned FAULT and now he's gone, he's dead Carla…-" He couldn't hold it back anymore, and a choked sob pulled the tears from his eyes and his shaking hands somehow managed to maintain a grip on the phone.

_"Leonard, God, Leonard, stop it, you can't do that…Leonard, listen to me."_

And he did, because he's never been able to help himself when it comes to Carla Rae.

_"Leonard, I know it hurts, darlin. I know-"_ her voice was tight, but a rough sniff pulled her words back to her. _"I know. But you have to…try. Try for me, try for Joanna. She needs her Daddy right now. She doesn't understand what's happening, and if you don't pull yourself together this time you never will. There won't be any coming back from this one, baby."_

"Carla…I can't. I can't do it again. I'm not strong enough…I, I can't. I just can't, Jesus, it hurts so bad, Carla. It hurts all the time, and I can't…take it anymore, I can't, I just can't,"

_"Stop it, Leonard. You can and you will. You'll do it for Joanna, you'll do it for me. You'll do it for your family. We watched you break apart once, and we can't watch that again. We won't let you. You're not alone, Leonard."_

He let out a self deprecating laugh. "That's the thing, Carla. I really am this time. I feel like it anyway. Nobody understands…this whole galaxy is mourning for Captain James T. Kirk and I just lost my best friend and my brother and my goddamned…I just lost Jim, Carla. And nobody understands that, they can't, they can't possibly ever understand that, because they didn't know him. Nobody knew him. Not Jim."

_"What about Spock?"_

"Spock…I don't know what to do with him."

_"Leonard, if there's one person who understands…"_

"I know. And he does. But…he's doing even worse than I am. I don't know what to do with that, Carla."

_"Well I _wo_uldn't think he's handling it well. I mean, he just lost his planet three years ago, Leonard. And Lady Amanda... You've both got the same problems; you should be able to help each other."_

"Maybe. I don't know what I can do though- we were talking this morning, and he told me he's been having dreams, visions. I won't say I'm not having my share of nightmares, but this- it sounds serious, Carla. Vulcan minds, when they're not working right- it can be bad."

_"Like, he needs to see a Vulcan doctor, bad?"_

"I dunno. But he's sure as hell not gonna let anybody poke and prod at him. Spock hates doctors. I might call up a friend of mine though, he spent some time on Vulcan in med school. He might know."

_"It's a start. Just don't give up on him. Damn Vulcans all need a hug as much as any human. Look…I wanted to talk about Joanna, but maybe we should leave that for another time. I don't want to talk about that tonight. I uh…I was thinking about flying over to the funeral Thursday. I know, I never really knew Jim, and if you don't want me there, I'll understand…"_

"No…no, you should come. I'd like to see you there. If you could leave Cassio at home, though, that'd be great."

She laughed._ "Don't worry, I'm not that much of a sadist. Besides, I doubt he could get away from work."_

"One of those, huh? I don't know who the hell works on Risa…"

_"Lawyers and bartenders, I think."_

"You're forgetting the Ladies of the Night…"

_"Oh, know a little bit about that, do you?"_ a smile crept into her voice.

"More than I'd care to know, actually. Jim Kirk and Risa always got along swimmingly."

_"Mmm hm. And you never partook of the festivities?"_

"Carla Rae Walker, I am offended. How long have you known me?"

_"Too long, you good ol' boy. Too damn long. And how many times do I have to remind you it's Carla Lincoln now?"_

"Good Lord, do not remind me, darlin. What do your parents think about their daughter walkin around wearin' a Yankee name like that?"

_"I don't know, they lost the right to pass judgment when they named me after a hurricane."_

"Carla Rae, that is the most appropriate christening I have ever come across in my entire life."

_"Well, you'd know it…"_

"Damn right." He sat there with drying eyes, just smiling into the phone. It felt like it used to, so many years ago. He'd forgotten how easy it used to be with them, how comfortable.

_"Look, Len, I gotta go. But…really. Call me anytime if you just need to talk. Better yet, take another crack at that Vulcan."_

"Yeah, alright. And Carla…thanks. For listening. It was good to hear your voice."

_"I haven't done anything. We'll talk about Joanna when I get back. Meantime, take care of yourself. I'll see you Thursday."_

"Yeah. Ok, I'll uh, see you then."

_"Bye, Leonard."_

"Good night, Carla."

* * *

-O-

Leonard scrubbed a hand through his hair, counting the stairs _twelve, thirteen, fourteen._ Dinner had been a quiet affair, at least between Leonard and Spock. Lee and Helena had kept the kids engaged in light conversation about school, Joanna talking brightly of Atlanta, Davey about his family at home. Any lulls however, and Davey's eyes eventually dragged over to stare in wonder at Spock, studying his eyes and forehead, every movement, as if the way he held a fork, the way it lifted the salad to his mouth, would reveal some great secret of the Universe, had some fantastic marvelous quality that could not be found on Earth. As if his mind simply could not comprehend that Spock was not of this planet. Alien, that magic word, full of fear and wonder and mystery. Davey was star struck.

He found himself at Joanna's door, leaning on the open doorframe. Starlight bathed the room- no moon tonight. Joanna lay in a heap of pink and white bedding, heavy little breaths pushing the covers up and down, up and down.

_I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?_

And really, what hadn't he fucked up? He was almost 40 years old, divorced, still in love with his ex-wife, his daughter barely knew him- he was an aviaphobe who worked in space, and he'd just watched his best friend in the universe die, and was now barely holding on to the only person who he could still call friend, a friend who despite denying the existence of any emotional inner life was dying right in front of him, breaking apart a little bit every day.

And it was all his fault.

"Daddy?"

A small, tired voice pulled him from his dark reverie, and he found himself on his knees at her bedside, stroking her soft hair back.

"Yeah, baby, I'm right here."

She closed her eyes, smiling. "Nothin. It's just nice to have you here, 's all. I love you, Daddy."

He swallowed. "I love you too, darlin. I love you."

"I know."

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby."

"I'm sorry."

He was dumbstruck, speechless for a moment. "Sorry? What in the world are you sorry for?"

Her eyes cracked open. "I dunno…" she was silent, but he could tell she was on the verge of tears. "I…I dunno, Daddy. You're just so sad. And I just wish it was how it used to be, with us…and mama..."

His heart was breaking. "Oh. Oh, baby Jo. Don't you…God, don't you ever say things like that again. This is not your fault, Joanna. None of this. Oh, baby girl. I love you so much. And I love your mother. Even if we can't be together, you know we both love you, so much."

"But why can't it just be like before? Why doesn't she want to be with you? I don't understand."

"Baby, your mama did the right thing. After Grandpa died, I was very sad. And she didn't want me to make you sad too."

"But you're still sad."

"I know, baby. I know. But…when I was up in space. With Uncle Jim, and Spock. I was really happy up there, baby. It helped me get better. And I know I'm sad right now…but I'm tryin real hard to get better. For you. For everybody. None of this is your fault, Joanna. You have a mother that loves you. And a Daddy that loves you. That's all that matters. Things are gonna be ok. It's just gonna take some time. We just need a little time, that's all." He wiped her tears, and kissed her forehead.

"Remember that song, that mama used to sing to me when I couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah, baby. I do."

"Can you sing that to me?"

"Sure, baby." He cleared his throat, and began a very soft, very low melody, voice smoothing out as his throat loosened, the words bringing back memoreies of a different place, a different time.

___Georgia, Georgia,  
The whole day through  
Just an old sweet song  
Keeps Georgia on my mind_

____

I'm say Georgia  
Georgia  
A song of you  
Comes as sweet and clear  
As moonlight through the pines

Other arms reach out to me  
Other eyes smile tenderly  
Still in peaceful dreams I see  
The road leads back to you

___Georgia,  
Georgia,  
____No peace, no peace I find  
Just this old, sweet song  
Keeps Georgia on my mind_

___I said just an old sweet song,  
Keeps Georgia on my mind _

It ended a little rough, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

For the second night in a row, he fell asleep at his daughter's beside.

It was not an easy sleep.

* * *

-O-

_03:59am EST_

_-O-_

Spock realized, quite clearly despite being in the middle of a vivid REM cycle, that he was home.

He was back on Vulcan.

Night.

The blackest night, blacker than any before fallen on Terra.

There are no moons orbiting Vulcan.

Even at night, the desert is balmy. Shi'Kar loomed sharp, exotic points jutting from the duned horizon. The desert all around him shifted with the wind, a vast, endless ocean of sand.

Far away, the sharp peaks of the L-langon Mountains stood black, pointing the way to the gaping scar of the Forge, eight times deeper than the Grand Canyon, deeper than the Marianas Trench.

Heat prickled the back of his neck, and he turned to see Eridani, heavy and red-orange, rising over the dunes.

"Spock."

He froze. _This is a dream…she is not real…_

"I am as real as you wish me to be. Turn around, Spock. Let me see my son's face."

God…and there she was. Her delicate face was smooth, younger than the last time he'd seen it…large brown eyes that he'd inherited swimming with tenderness and emotion. So illogical. So human. So beautiful.

"Mother…"

She smiled. "Spock, my beautiful boy. Come here."

He didn't hesitate, but rushed forward almost desperately, pulling her into his arms. She was solid, she was warm, she was real. She smelled like the desert, like spices, like home. He wanted to hold onto her forever. He wouldn't lose her again-

"Spock…my darling…" She pulled back, cradling his face, tears running down her face. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time."

"No." No what? Don't leave me, don't make me go back there, don't let me be alone anymore-

"Spock. You must be brave as you've always been."

"I cannot. I have nothing left. I am no one. I have lost you. My home. Jim."

She smiled, shaking her head. "Your life has been difficult, my darling. You are a child of two worlds- but this is a blessing, not a curse." She took his hands between her smaller, softer ones. "I know…you don't feel lucky. But you have Earth. You have people there that love you. You have your father."

He shook his head. "No….that place will never be home to me. It is not the same."

"Yes. It is. It is a part of you, darling, whether you admit it or not. It was my home, all my life."

"Mother…I miss you…" he was crying now, tears streaming. "Don't leave me…."

"No, Spock. I've never left you. And neither has Jim. You must find him."

"He is dead."

She shook her head. "He is not lost."

"I do not understand."

She smiled again, kissing his forehead, wiping tears from his cheeks. "You will, darling boy. You will. I love you, Spock. I will always love you. Know that you are the best of me, the best thing I ever did. I am so proud of you." Her voice was shaking now, almost desperate. "I must go now, darling. He is calling you. I must go…I love you. Be brave, my son."

He looked desperately into her eyes, keeping his grip tight, trying to hold on to her. But she was fading, the whole world was fading, almost like the transporter beam all those years ago.

"Mother…mother…I love you. Mother, don't leave me. Please, I need you-"

And everything was fading fast, fading to black nothing, and he was screaming-

"MOTHER, MOTHER PLEASE…."

And in the last vestige of light he saw the desert rise up in a great sand storm, swirling to the heavens and engulf his mother's fastly fading figure. It howled all round him, pulling the screams from his mouth and blasting every square inch of his skin with sand, ripping flesh and he was engulfed in pain and blackness and then-

There was nothing…

…except…

Waves. The pounding crash of waves against rock.

_NO._

Not here. ANYwhere but here…

The purple black heavens of Galatia Prime ripped open with a deafening crack of thunder, and icy water, soaking him to the bone, pounded him to the rough, sharp rocky ground. Mare Iratus crashed relentlessly away, the thunder roared, and the cliffs of Mons Caelus flashed sharply in the electrified heavens. He was on his knees, and he had no strength to rise, no strength left but to stay, still…

_SPOCK_

It wasn't a voice. But a blinding message setting every psionic nerve on fire. It was desperate and scared, but it was familiar as his own mind and golden and beautiful and-

_SPOCK—help me…_

Fire shot through every fiber of his being, and he pushed himself to his feet, fighting against every raindrop and gravity-

"JIM! JIIIIMMM!" He screamed, screamed till he voice was raw. And he screamed some more.

"JIIMM! JIM…WHERE ARE YOU? JIM! JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMM!"

And then the most glorious, painful voice screamed voicelessly through his brain. It had no words, but it was Jim…calling from some other universe or time or place, unreachable but here he was, closer than they'd ever been, there was a rope between their minds, stronger than any bond he'd ever had even with his parents, stronger than the pledging body with T'Pring, it was like a mind meld over billions of light years of space, millions of years apart, infinitely far yet infinitely joined as one.

He didn't know how long it lasted.

He woke up screaming, holding his head and tears streaming down his face.

* * *

-O-

_Galatia Prime, Titus System, Romulan Star Empire, near Romulan Neutral Zone_

_04:00am EST_

-O-

The dark closed and folded around and pushed down on every surface of its body, suffocating- it was aware of its own being and yet it's mind and thoughts and consciousness were so turned and frantic and senseless that it did not yet possess a self.

Deep in the dark, nerves fired and flexed their neglected neurons, rebooting in an innately learned sequence, , efficient as a computer, but it wasn't a machine, it's lungs filled with a desperate breath, ice cold, burning, and he….yes, he was a he, he knew that, his muscles were on fire, he tried to move but he was held down, restrained by something, whether it was his own body or something else he could not tell. His skin began to register cold, a deep cold that sank to the marrow, and a sheen of sweat blocked any insulating layer of air, he shivered uncontrollably, spasming, he felt every square nanometer, every nerve, every hair on his body, and now, there it was-

A consciousness. Coherent thought. He didn't remember who he was, not yet. But he was human, yes, and this place- this was not a good place. This was not somewhere he belonged or had any desire to be. Something was terribly wrong, and he needed to get out, needed to get away from this dark and this pain and this unbearable cold and nakedness and nothingness, but above all the overwhelming physical sensation, he knew...ALIVE, HE WAS ALIVE, and one word, one thought, one flashing brilliant blinding image seared into his brain, into his very being, ONE name-

_SPOCK_

___

* * *

_

_**A/N Ok so just in case you didn't get it…and since I've dragged you all through angsty hell….that last part? Guess who's POV that was. I'll give you a hint- he's supposed to be dead right now. **_

_**This was a decision not lightly made. When I started the outline for this story about a year ago, I had two choices- both of which would lead me down very different paths, to very different endings and very different stories. But I thought, if Jim is truly dead, I'll just be wallowing in angst for 20 chapters, and no one will have any desire to read this. **_

_**So….there we go. I think the action will pick up once we get back to Starfleet for the funeral. Got some big plans for y'all. **_

_**Ok, so if somehow you still don't get it? Uh…ok I'm just gonna say it. **_

_**Jim's alive.**_

_**PS. I REALLY RECOMMEND THE SONG 'LITTLE LION MAN' by Mumford and Sons (**_.com/watch?v=AbgYHUeYEPU_**) . I was really inspired by it when writing some of this, and I use some lyrics in the opening quote. I really feel it sums up Leonard's feelings at this point. He feels..well like everything's his fault. WHICH ITS NOT, but there you have a 40 year old grumpy alcoholic doctor with a heart of gold. **_


	7. Chapter 7: Down the Rabbit Hole

Broken Chapter 7

Storyshark2005

* * *

Previously, on _Broken_:

-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-

Spock realized, quite clearly despite being in the middle of a vivid REM cycle, that he was home.

He was back on Vulcan.

-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-

"Spock."

He froze. _This is a dream…she is not real…_

"I am as real as you wish me to be. Turn around, Spock. Let me see my son's face."

God…and there she was. Her delicate face was smooth, younger than the last time he'd seen it…large brown eyes that he'd inherited swimming with tenderness and emotion. So illogical. So human. So beautiful.

"Mother…"

She smiled. "Spock, my beautiful boy. Come here."

-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-

"Mother…I miss you…" he was crying now, tears streaming. "Don't leave me…."

"No, Spock. I've never left you. And neither has Jim. You must find him."

"He is dead."

She shook her head. "He is not lost."

"I do not understand."

She smiled again, kissing his forehead, wiping tears from his cheeks. "You will, darling boy. You will.'

-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-

There was nothing…

…except…

Waves. The pounding crash of waves against rock.

_NO._

_Not here. ANYwhere but here…_

The purple black heavens of Galatia Prime ripped open with a deafening crack of thunder, and icy water, soaking him to the bone, pounded him to the rough, sharp rocky ground. Mare Iratus crashed relentlessly away, the thunder roared, and the cliffs of Mons Caelus flashed sharply in the electrified heavens. He was on his knees, and he had no strength to rise, no strength left but to stay, still…

_SPOCK_

It wasn't a voice. But a blinding message setting every psionic nerve on fire. It was desperate and scared, but it was familiar as his own mind and golden and beautiful and-

_SPOCK—help me…_

Fire shot through every fiber of his being, and he pushed himself to his feet, fighting against every raindrop and gravity-

"JIM! JIIIIMMM!" He screamed, screamed till he voice was raw. And he screamed some more.

"JIIMM! JIM…WHERE ARE YOU? JIM! JIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMM!"

And then the most glorious, painful voice screamed voicelessly through his brain. It had no words, but it was Jim…calling from some other universe or time or place, unreachable but here he was, closer than they'd ever been, there was a rope between their minds, stronger than any bond he'd ever had even with his parents, stronger than the pledging body with T'Pring, it was like a mind meld over billions of light years of space, millions of years apart, infinitely far yet infinitely joined as one.

He didn't know how long it lasted.

He woke up screaming, holding his head and tears streaming down his face.

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-_

_The dark closed and folded around and pushed down on every surface of its body, suffocating- it was aware of its own being and yet it's mind and thoughts and consciousness were so turned and frantic and senseless that it did not yet possess a self._

_Deep in the dark, nerves fired and flexed their neglected neurons, rebooting in an innately learned sequence, ,efficient as a computer, but it wasn't a machine, it's lungs filled with a desperate breath, ice cold, burning, and he….yes, he was a he, he knew that, his muscles were on fire, he tried to move but he was held down, restrained by something, whether it was his own body or something else he could not tell. His skin began to register cold, a deep cold that sank to the marrow, and a sheen of sweat blocked any insulating layer of air, he shivered uncontrollably, spasming, he felt every square nanometer, every nerve, every hair on his body, and now, there it was-_

_A consciousness. Coherent thought. He didn't remember who he was, not yet. But he was human, yes, and this place- this was not a good place. This was not somewhere he belonged or had any desire to be. Something was terribly wrong, and he needed to get out, needed to get away from this dark and this pain and this unbearable cold and nakedness and nothingness, but above all the overwhelming physical sensation, he knew...ALIVE, HE WAS ALIVE, and one word, one thought, one flashing brilliant blinding image seared into his brain, into his very being, ONE name-_

_SPOCK_

_-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-O-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-*-~-  
_

* * *

~-O-~

Chapter Seven: Down the Rabbit Hole

~-O-~

The subconscious is ceaselessly murmuring,

and it is by listening to these murmurs that one hears the truth.

_ -_Gaston Bachelard

* * *

~-O-~

_Mind of James Tiberius Kirk_

_Time Unknown_

~-O-~

_ Jim._

_ Jim...James...James someone..._

_ He was...Kirk. James Kirk. James...T. James T. James T. Kirk. _

_ T...for...T-...Ti...James, Ti...Tiber, Ti-, Tiberius. Yes. Yes. Tiberius. That was right. That sounded right. _

_ James Tiberius Kirk. His name...was James Tiberius Kirk. _

And he was alive.

Only...he was...very confused. He was...somewhere. Somewhere...not right.

Jim blinked, clearing his vision. Suddenly, everything..was white. Suddenly wasn't quite right though. Because...time. Time seemed...very...relative right now. Suddenly could have been ages ago. He didn't remember how long he'd been here. Wherever here was. But anyway, at whatever moment this was, wherever he was...was pure white.

It wasn't exactly a room. Just...white. He had a feeling, though, that it used to be black. Maybe even a few seconds before, it had been black. But he couldn't tell. He didn't remember.

He tried to remember...something. He knew who he was...and...there was someone...someone else. Maybe that he'd just been thinking of...somebody important. Close. Somebody he should remember...

"Spock."

Jim jumped to his feet, a voice booming from behind him. Maybe not that loud, but he felt like his ears were brand new, untested, like he'd never _heard _before, like his ears were brand new or something. Like this body was brand new.

"What?" His voice cracked, the sound strange and louder still in his own ears. He cleared his throat, because it felt like the right thing to do. It seemed to help. "What...who, who are you? Where am I?"

The figure was a distant speck on the white horizon, well not exactly horizon. He seemed to recall what a horizon was. There wasn't really any reference points, land marks. Just a dark speck, very small, on a white canvas. The voice was unnaturally loud though. He didn't recognize it. Maybe he should. He didn't know.

"The person you're trying to remember. His name is Spock. You do remember Spock?"

"Oh..." And he did. A little outtake of breath, and everything, absolutely everything, came rushing in. Spock. First, his...eyes. Dark. Infinity deep. And his ears...dark hair. The exasperated look he got when Jim was explicating some ridiculous idea or acting overly human...the not smile he tried to restrain, the one really only Jim or Uhura or Bones even could read...Bones. God...his friends, his ship, his life...

"They're not here." the voice changed. It was younger, now. Like a kid's voice. The speck on the whiteness began to grow larger, closer.

Jim's chest felt tight, and his breath began to shorten, shallow, panicky breaths. "Where...where are they? Where am I? Take me back. I want to go back to my ship." He composed himself, suddenly aware he was wearing his Starfleet blacks. He might've been wearing them all along. He straightened.

"My name is James T. Kirk, Captain of the Federation starship Enterprise. I address you with peaceful intentions, however, I must get back to my ship. Direct me there immediately."

The voice laughed, not cruelly, just...amused. And it sounded familiar.

"Ah, c'mon Jimmy. Don't you recognize me?"

The speck was growing bigger, and Jim could make out a shape, a human shape, a very familiar human form walking towards him, spiky brown hair, dusty tanned skin, battered old leather jacket, duffel slung over one shoulder. Tall, lean.

The duffle hit the floor, the white floor, and a dust cloud coughed up from the pure, matterless white. His black boots were brown with it, his jeans and dark leather jacket and white t-shirt and hair caked and choked with it, brown Iowa dust, dust kicked up by a red Corvette on a gravel road on a hot, August afternoon.

"Hey Jimmy."

"Sam..."

"Hey, little brother." Sam looked tired, but his green eyes were bright. "I knew you'd recognize me." He nodded. "Been a long time, Jimmy."

Jim just stared, memorizing his 16 year old brother's face, taking in all the strong hard lines, the eyes, a face he'd worshipped and idolized and longed for, how long had it been...

"Bout thirteen years now, Jimmy. Awhile."

Jim collapsed to his knees. "Sam...how are you..."

"Here?" Sam smiled that sideways smile, the smile that made the girls sigh and the boys jealous. "I've been here." Sam's brow furrowed, though he was still smiling. "Jimmy, I ain't gonna disappear. You can touch me if you want."

Jim brought a shaky hand, hesitant, up to his brother's chest. He could feel the warmth of his skin under the sweat soaked cotton t-shirt, the beating of his heart. His eyes, confused, flicked up to Sam's warm gaze. Still smiling.

"Sam...how come you're..."

"Young? Lookin like I just stepped off the side of the road? That's cause I just did, Jimmy. I'm 16 years old, and I been this way for thirteen. That's the last time you saw me, if I recall correctly. And I do."

"Sam..." Jim still couldn't seem to get his mouth around three words in a row, and Sam's grin just took any hope of that away. The sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of his nose, those green eyes, all Sam. Nothing like their father's. Sparkling and kind and warm and ready to jump in front of a train for Jim. Or a fist.

Jim's throat tightened, and he grabbed forward, pulling his big brother into a hug. He still smelled like Sam, like leather and cologne and the farm and the earth and Sun. He buried his nose in Sam's neck, gripped his jacket and just...held on. He felt a low rumble of laughter in Sam's chest, and Sam reached around him, ruffling his hair, just like he used to.

"This isn't possible. This can't be real. How can you be here?" Jim pulled back, searching for some clue in his brother's face, his brother that should be 31 years old."

Sam dipped his head, almost shy. "Well, Jimmy, see the thing is- I'm not really Sam. I mean- I am. I'm the Sam that you remember, everything that he is to _you_."

Jim immediately released Sam's arms, drawing in a sharp breath. His eyes grew hard. "What do you mean? Who are you-"

"C'mon, Jimmy, relax. You ought to know me. I'm part of your subconscious. Its just easier this way. I dunno, I guess Sam kinda felt like the right choice."

Jim's eyesbrows shot up. "My subconscious? You're saying this is all in my head?"

Sam nodded, smiling again. "Little bleak, isn't it? But this is just one room. Sort of a...panic room. See, if we let you in to the whole shebang, you'd get lost in it, overwhelmed. Your subconscious is a pretty big place. No place to go wandering around without a map."

"Panic room- why am I here? How do I wake up?"

Sam frowned at that. "Well, that's the problem. Somebody's trying to mess with our mind, so we've sort of locked you down here, for safekeeping."

"You've locked me in my subconscious?"

Sam nodded. "So we don't really want to wake you up and expose you to all that. But on the other hand, you can't really do a whole lot from down here to...remedy the situation, can you? We both know Jim Kirk isn't one to sit around and wait for a rescue, but the situation is lookin kinda grim..."

"So...how do I know this isn't all a part of their illusion? If they're mind manipulators, they could theoretically use my subconscious against me. How can I trust you?"

"Well, I suppose you can't. But if that were true, and they could access memories of Sam and use him against you, why can't they access everything else? It'd be overkill, I think to go to all the trouble of creating me. Of course any logic I use is really your own, which could theoretically be manipulated. So you can either sit there and do nothing, or...try and help me get us out of here."

"Jesus.." Jim breathed. He sat back, gripping his head in his hands. "Look...this is ridiculous. I'm talking to myself. I gotta get outta here."

"Not so fast, Jimmy boy. It's not that easy. I haven't locked you down here for good conversation. Those guys up there, whoever they are- they're not kiddin around. _They are trying to invade our mind- _get that into your head. You can't leave this room. It's not safe."

"And this is safer, how? If they're using mind probes, how is any part of my brain safer than any other?"

"You don't got to worry about that. We've locked this place down tight. Those bastards aren't getting in here in their lifetime. Or...yours, I guess."

"Well if they're not getting in, and I can't get out, what's the plan. I can't just stay here till my body rots."

"No, that's not ideal. We're working on a plan."

"What kind of plan?"

"Well, there is some good news. Just the other day we got some kinda message. Telepathic phone call if you will."

Jim looked up. "Spock?"

Sam grinned, nodding. "Yeah, you bet your ass it was. We don't know where he is, but we're working on that. Now that a link is established, we're trying to send him a beacon of some kind, tell him we're in trouble."

Jim nodded, thinking. "I remember...I must still be on that planet, the one I was doing negations on. Galatia Prime. Spock and Bones are probably still looking for me- they can't be far."

Sam shifted, looking uncomfortable. "Well...that's another thing. Spock, Bones...everybody. They kinda think you're dead."

Jim frowned. "Dead? How is that possible? You said my body was somewhere unconscious, being bombarded with mental torture. If I was missing they'd be looking for me- they won't give up till they find a body."

"Er, well we don't exactly understand that part either. Spock's subconscious, when we were linked- well he was convinced you were dead. There were memories there...memories of a dead body. Your dead body."

Jim's stomach dropped.

"I need to get out of here- we _need_ to tell him I'm ok- we've got to-" Jim was on his feet now, pacing, studying the space. "How do I access the link?"

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. "'Fraid its not that easy, Jimmy. Spock's got to be in the right state of mind on his end. Dreaming, or meditating. We've only gotten the one call. But believe you me, we're working on it."

"Good. What can I do?"

"Well...right now? I need you to sit tight."

Jim stared. "Sit tight? You're joking. How am I supposed to help by just sitting here?"

"Well, when I figure it out, I'll need your help. I need you willing, Jim. If you don't _want_ to get out of here, neither of us will be able to leave. I'm...I'm working on it."

Jim rounded on his brother. "Working on it? I need to get out of here. Jesus, you're not even my real brother, you're just a part of my subconscious. I need to tell Spock I'm alive. Tell Bones, I'm alive. I _need_ to get the hell out of here."

"I'll _figure_ it out. Just have some goddamned patience. I'm trying to save your ass, here."

"So how are you going to figure this out? _Think_ some more?"

"Hell, yeah. I can think a lot faster than you can, flyboy. I can think a million thoughts a second and you don't even realize it you go to sleep- I _never_ shut off. Its easier to concentrate without babysitting the consciousness anyway." He sighed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Look, Jim. I gotta a lot of work to do. I'll be back soon."

Jim shook his head. "What the hell do you mean? Where are you going?"

Sam picked up his duffle. "What the hell else would I be doing? I'm going to work on getting us out of here. Just...stay here. Don't get into any trouble, ok?"

Jim fumed. "Look, don't tell me what to do. You're not my brother."

"Maybe not, but I know what's best for you, and I also know what an impulsive, selfish bastard you can be. So for once, don't think about yourself, think about us. I want to get out of here, and I'm not gonna let you ruin that."

"Think about _us_? YOU ARE ME! Stop pretending to be Sam, you have NO IDEA who my brother is."

Sam ground his teeth. "No. I don't. Which means neither do you- but you better take a good long look pal, because you've obviously got issues. Picking a fight with your own subconscious? Big mistake."

Jim stepped even with his big brother, using the three inches he had on Sam to his full advantage. "Oh yeah? Well I think you're the one with issues, _pal_. I do just fine. Everybody's got a noisy subconscious, and mine is right where is should be- locked down tight. I may have to deal with you now, but once I go topside? I'm going on with my life and never looking back."

Sam laughed out load. "Really. You do just fine with me, do you?" he grinned. "Let's talk about Sam. Let's talk about Mom, and Dad. Hell, let's talk about _Spock_! WOO now there's a guy with issues, am I right? I mean, come _ON, _you two are so fucked up, you're practically _made_ for eachother. Can you say '_Daddy issues'_ ?"

Jim fumed. "Shut up. You...you do not talk about him."

"Fine. But you know what? From here on out, you do exactly what I say. We've got to find some kind of middle ground, or we're stuck here forever."

"Fine. So you want me to just..sit here."

"For now. Just let me think about this for a bit. I'll come up with something."

"How long is that gonna take?"

"I dunno. Not long, I hope. So just...sit tight. Ok?"

Jim folded his arms across his chest. "Right."

Sam sighed and turned, dusty boots echoing in the white vastness.

And he was gone. Jim sighed, and threw himself on the hard, white ground.

* * *

-O-

_Talam Ranch_

_Chatham County, Georgia_

_04:00 hours_

-O-

Spock jolted awake, soaked in sweat. His mind was on fire, every nerve was screaming. He could still feel the presence of Jim's mind, and his mother's warm hands cupping his cheeks, or the absence of it- now, it was fading into the dark dawn. Fading into the sensations of physical consciousness. Cold, pain, fatigue.

This was not good. This was _not _healthy. Dreaming about the people you had lost, in such a vivid way...it had felt..._so_ real.

He closed his eyes, steadied his breathing. He needed to balance his mind. Right now. This had gone too far. He was losing his grip on reality, his grasp of logic and rationality.

Dawn was coming. He still had a few hours left before sunrise, and the long journey to San Francisco. The journey to Starfleet Academy. To bury Jim.

He lay back, bone tired, well aware that he would find no sleep between now and the dawn hour. He lay awake. And waited.

* * *

-O-

_Mind of James Tiberius Kirk_

_Time Unknown_

-O-

A baseball. A fucking _baseball_. That- and a concrete wall, was what Sam had left him for entertainment.

Very funny.

When they got out of here, Jim was never going to watch another Steve McQueen movie again. Ever.

_BANG. _

At least he seemed to be able to control some things in his mind. Instead of his Starfleet blacks, he was now wearing some baggy black athletic pant, his old Academy hoodie, and sneakers. Hella comfortable.

_ BANG. _

_BANG. _

The ball thwacked against the concrete, onto the hard white ground, and back into Jim's palm.

_BANG. _

_ BANG. _

_ BANG. _

_BANG. _

_THUNK. _The ball bounced back to Jim's palm, and the hollow sound of wood echoed in the nothingness.

A door.

A barn door, to be exact. Old with red and white peeling paint. Right in the middle of the concrete wall.

Well fuck.

Jim stood, still holding the baseball loosely in his left hand. He walked slowly, curiously to the door.

He pressed an ear to the wood. It was cool...the peeling paint rough under his cheek. His fingers ran over the cool brass hinges, the grain exposed beneath the paintless patches. He could smell a faint, breeze coming in through the cracks between the wood slats- it smelled like earth. Damp, hung with the musky scent of horses and straw and the exhaust from internal combustion engines, and something else- something familiar, like home. He closed his eyes, just breathing it in.

His hand fell down the wood, fingertips brushing an invisible pattern...and rested on the brass knob. Cold metal. He could almost taste the tang of it oxidizing in a thick, age old mist. He gripped the knob.

And pushed.

* * *

-O-

_Talam Ranch_

_Chatham County, Georgia_

_04:03 hours_

_-O-_

Leonard stared at the ceiling fan, wheeling around faster than he could keep an eye on. A soft breeze pillowed, cool, against his skin, steady, soothing.

He sighed, not wanting to move. Pale, twilight dawn was beginning to fall in soft rectangular shafts from behind the blinds, illuminating dancing particles of dust, suspended- he remembered his mother telling him, in the very same room, how those dancing particles were fairies, so tiny you couldn't see them- _they ride silver horses, Leonard, see? Those little shiny specks, those are their tiny, silver horses, they're so light they just float above the air, flying. See them, Leonard? You can't see the fairies, they're too small, but those little silver horses, you can see them, can't you? ...Its magic, Leonard..._

Today was coming, and he couldn't do a thing about it. Today, he buried Jim.

There was a soft knock at the door. Lee stuck her head in.

"Leonard?" she whispered.

He pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard. "Yeah, Lee. C'mon in, I'm awake."

She slipped in, padding softly over the cold hardwood floor, and sat beside him resting her chin on her knees.

"I couldn't sleep either. I figured you'd be awake."

"Well, you figured right." He smiled sadly, looking over at her. "You ok?"

She sighed, but nodded, her sharp little chin still digging into the little notch between her knees. "Yeah...I guess."

He swallowed. "No you're not." He shook his head. "You're not, at all."

Lee opened her mouth, but said nothing. Leonard let out a humorless kind of laugh, and felt his throat tighten.

"I've, uh, been distant, I know. This whole thing, with Spock, with...Jim-"

"Leonard, you don't have to explain anything to me. I don't expect you to be all sunshine and daisies."

Her pale blue eyes were so earnest it almost broke his heart.

"Lee..." he bit his lip. "Lee, you're my little sister. And I'm your big brother, and I... it's kinda my job to look out for you. And I've been doin a pretty shit poor job of it lately."

Lee shook her head. "Len, that's too much. You can't ask yourself to do that, you've been lookin out for everybody else-"

"Doesn't matter, Lee. It hasn't been just this last couple weeks, either. Its been a few year. Just haven't been here, even when I have."

"I don't need ya worryin about me, Len. I'm ok- its you I should be worrying about."

"Nah." He smiled, and put an arm around her. "Nah, little sis, I'm gonna try and do better. Its somethin I gotta do, somethin I havta do. Its my job." He ruffled her hair. "Now don't get me wrong, its _also_ my job to boss you around, pick on you, embarrass the hell out of you and generally push you around-"

She turned before he could put her in a head lock, punching him hard in the shoulder. He howled in mock pain and she scrambled off the bed, but not before he kicked out and shoved her in the behind with his foot. She stumbled forward, shrieking with laughter, and collapsed in a fit of giggles, nearly knocking over his old antique cowboy saddle resting on the stand against the wall.

"Now, GIT you hee-hawin Tomboy, before I kick your beehind out the window-" he grabbed a loafer and launched in at his sister, still curled in on herself, racked with giggles. The old shoe bounced harmlessly off her shoulder, causing her to snort harder.

"You..." another snort and cascade of giggles cut her off for a couple seconds. " Y-y-you throw LIKE A GIRL-" and she was done, sliding down the wall, totally wasted with laughter, a hand clapped over her quickly reddening face.

"You, little sister, are totally worthless. I'm gonna go make myself useful and fix some coffee. You can join the adults once you regain your composure." He started for the door, stepping carefully over her outstretched legs.

And proceeded to stumble regally forward, smacking his forehead on the door before catching himself.

Lee shrieked with laughter, the offending leg still hanging in the air. She tried to catch her breath to say something, but she collapsed on the floor, still laughing hysterically.

The door swung open.

"GOOD LORD A'MIGHTY, WHAT IS-" Helena McCoy stood in the doorway, still in her pajamas, regarding her children shaking helplessly with laughter.

She bit down a smile. Almost. She quickly composed her face.

"Now you children-"

Leonard, now also on the floor, kicked out at Lee. She shrieked and leaned forward to smack her fist into his chest. He took the opportunity to grab her head in his elbow and drag her into a noogie.

"LEANNE DAVINA AND LEONARD HORATIO MCCOY WILL YOU BE QUIET!-"

They froze, looking up.

"You may be too old for me to take a ruler to your little butts, but don't think the stalls couldn't use another cleanin if you two don't have anything better to do than mess around like a couple of 3 year olds. Now we gotta be up in a half hour and DON'T think I won't go to extreme lengths to make sure Joanna and Spock get that extra thirty minutes of sleep. Y'all understand me?"

They nodded, though Lee couldn't do so very well.

Still hiding her grin, Helena muttered a 'Good' and closed the door quietly. The giggles erupting from behind the door did not make her smile.

No, not one bit.

* * *

-O-

_Talam Ranch_

_Chatham County, Georgia_

_05:12 hours_

-O-

Leonard dropped the last trunk by the door. Glancing out the front picture window, he could see a deep red-orange tinting the pale gray twilight to the East. And old sailor's rhyme his father used to quote popped into his head. _Red sky at morning, sailor's warning._

"Great." he muttered.

A crashing noise and a screech of protest drew him from the window. Joanna sat at the bottom of the stairs, miserable, her suitcase popped wide open, contents spilled and gutted. She looked up at her father's careful steps.

"C'mon, Joanna. Pick up your things. We're gonna be leavin in a half hour, can't miss the shuttle." He bent to help her.

"What happened?" Lee's heels clicked over the wooden floorboards, and she stopped in the doorway, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. "Oh, Joanna, you poor thing. How much stuff did you have crammed in that little old suitcase?"

Joanna sniffed. "I dunno. A lot, I guess."

Leonard picked up a large, hard plastic dapple gray horse. "Joanna, girl-"

She quickly reached forward and snatched it from his hand, holding it tightly to her chest. "Daddy, I can't leave Zenyatta here. Sides, you said I could bring a couple toys."

"Well, why don't you bring your stuffed bear? What's wrong with Byers?"

Still holding the toy horse, Joanna went to her open suitcase and dug out a stuffed bear among the ruins. "I'm bringing him, Daddy. And his full name is John Fitzgerald Byers. You said I could bring a _couple._"

"Well, yes Joanna, but Zenyatta is going to be pretty hard to fit in your suitcase. How about another stuffed animal. You've got that little stuffed fox you used to drag around everywhere. What about him?"

"Foxwilliam? ...well, he does like flying. But if I bring him I have to bring Dana Cat. They never go anywhere without the other."

"Foxwilliam? Dana Cat? Girl, where do you come up with these names? What ever happened to Fluffy or Mr. Teddy?" Leonard began folding her little shirts and skirts and setting them neatly back in the suitcase.

Lee bent down to help. Grinning, she met Leonard's eye. "C'mon, Len. They've got character. Bear's only as good as his name."

Joanna fussed over John Fitgerald Byers' hair, and straightened his sweater.

A creak on the stairs above pulled Leonard's attention.

Spock stood uncertainly on the landing, duffle slung over his shoulder, surveying the chaos below. Dark circles stood out alarmingly under his eyes, and he looked stiff and exhausted on his feet.

Leonard stood and climbed the stairs. He reached Spock, resting a hand on his elbow. "Spock, you look exhausted. Are you alright?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, though the effect was diminished by tired eyes and ever so slightly mussed hair. "I am fine, Leonard. I have packed all my personal belongings- I assume you prefer them placed near the front door?" He nodded toward the stack of baggage.

"What? Er, yeah, Spock, that's just fine. Let me get that- here, get to the kitchen and get something to eat."

"Leonard, rest assured I am able to manage-"

Leonard grabbed the duffle and slung it over his own shoulder, steering Spock down the stairs. "I don't wanna hear it. I'm speaking as your doctor, here. Go get something in your stomach before you pass out."

He could almost hear the protest bitten back, but Spock nodded, tiredly, and made his way to the kitchen, carefully picking his way through the debris scattered across the front hall.

Lee's gaze followed Spock's back, and shot back to Leonard, concerned. "Is he alright?"

Leonard shook his head. "No. No, not at all."

* * *

-O-

_Mind of James Tiberius Kirk_

_Time Unknown_

-O-

After a rough shove, Jim stumbled shoulder first through the door, almost tumbling to his knees.

It was dark, but the white light haloed around him, illuminating the room in a dusty haze. The musty scent of hay and horses washed over him, and he could hear a steady pinging of a hammer on metal, somewhere ahead in the darkness. The wood floor was covered in hay and straw, and ahead, stretching into the dark...hundreds of stalls, lining the walls of the barn. He could see no end. Above, giant wood beams criss-crossed, supporting a tall pitched roof, slats of light cutting down in white shafts.

Catching his breath, Jim set off toward the pinging sound, making his way through the dusky light. The empty stalls still ran along either side. The sound echoed all around, but seemed louder now, more to the left...suddenly a change- he could see an outpouring triangle of yellow light stretching across the floor, way ahead. Had to be coming from somewhere, a crack in a door...

He hurried forward. The pinging was getting louder, and as Jim come upon the yellow bar of light, he saw that there was indeed a break in the endless stretch of stalls. A door, old, and barely a meter wide, hung ajar, pouring light onto the stable floor. He could hear the pinging, and someone shuffling around, the snort of a horse, and a low breathy humming, some old tune he _knew_ he'd heard it before, what was that? Peering through the crack, he saw the back of an old denim jacket, a man bent over cradling the hoof of a black stallion, a little Arabian by the looks of it, and-

"THUNDER!" Jim yanked the door open, and in two strides was grinning widely up at shining eyes curtained in long dark lashes, his old friend nuzzling velvety soft into the crook of his neck, puffing warm air that smelled of hay and horse and damp grass. He ran his fingers over Thunder's satin jaw, tangled his fingers in his beautiful mane. Warm, curious eyes blinked serenely down at him. _Hello, old friend. _Their foreheads bumped, familiar, steady.

"I...suppose I should say something before I startle you."

Jim froze at the soft, rough voice. He'd nearly forgotten about the man shoeing his horse. His eyes followed the voice to blue, familiar eyes. And he promptly stopped breathing.

"Whoa, easy there, Jim. You know who I am?" The man set the hammer down on the workbench, and walked toward Jim, his hands out, steadying, calming.

Jim choked out a breath. "Its...you're not him..."

The man reached Jim, set a warm hand on his shoulder. "Jim. It's me."

"No." He yanked his shoulder free, almost stumbling backwards. "This isn't real. You're just a part of, a part of my subconscious. None of this is real."

A tired, fond smile. "No, son. That's not what this is."

"Then explain to me-" he choked, horrified at his rapidly dampening eyes. His back hit a shelf. He was trapped here, listening to this-

"I wish I could. That could take some time. I don't...we don't have a lot of that, Jim."

"You...you are not my father. My father is dead."

" Jim, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, or Sam, or your mother. But I am so proud of you, son. You have _no_ idea...how proud you've made me."

He felt his legs give out, and he slid down the wall, falling down, _downdowndown_

"Son." Gentle hands pried his hands away, heeled into his eyes, damp and salty. "Jim, my boy, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Fingers, solid, warm fingers between his own. "My boy." A hand carded gently through his hair. "My boy."

And he couldn't hide his face, couldn't stop the tears, couldn't control _anything_ anymore. He was stuck here, stuck in this dark corner in the basement of his own mind. He was used to being alone. Used to the dark.

"Jim...look at me."

Somehow his chin rose on its own. Blue eyes, _his_ blue eyes, the eyes of his father, home. Sad smile, pride, strength, love, _love_, _lovelovelove_ so much love there.

"Dad. I...I can't..."

"Can't what? Can't find a way out of here? Can't graduate Starfleet Academy? Can't outdo your old man? Can't save the Galaxy? You're a Kirk, Jim, you're my boy. What can't you do?"

He swallowed down tears and the lump in his throat, it loosened slightly. "I'm tired, Dad. I'm so goddamned tired. I miss mom, and Sam, and you. I've pushed away any family I have left. I'm alone in the dark."

"Jim..you were _never_ alone. I was always here...just like I'm here now. I know, its not fair. Sometimes...you can't hear me." Dry lips pressed to his forehead. "But I am.._always_...here with you. Always have been. Always will be."

And for the first time in his life, his father, his _real_ father, pulled him into his arms and held him tight. He could smell cedar and horses and damp earth and motor oil.

"And Jim." his father whispered into his ear. "you have so many people who love you. Your mother loves you. Sam loves you. And Bones. And Spock. He doesn't show it, but you know Spock cares about you Jim, deeper than he'll ever admit, even to himself." he pulled back slightly, brushing tears from Jim's eyes. "You have to get back to them, Jimmy. They need you."

Jim nodded. "I know. But...how? Sam, er- my subconscious Sam, he says he's working on a way. Something to do with Spock."

George smiled. "Spock will come calling, Jim. You just have to be there to answer." he smiled again, reassuringly, taking a steadying breath. "So. Are you gonna be ready to get the hell out of here?"

Jim took a breath.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

George Kirk grinned. "That's my boy."

* * *

-O-

_Shuttlecraft V-7465__6_

_Savannah Shuttle Port, Savannah, GA_

_Destination: Cochran Station, San Francisco, CA_

_06:27 hours_

-O-

The thoughts were irrational.

Illogical.

_Jim can't be alive. The body is in San Francisco, in a casket at Starfleet Academy. Jim died two months ago. Control youself, center your mind...breathe..._

Spock sat in the seat next to Leonard, gazing placidly out the window, eyes moving unseeing over the shuttle pad outside. He watched the rain sheet grey-green down, down, down.

Sleep...sleep hadn't come last night. Only the dark, placid and all encompassing and slow to lift from the land.

Today they buried Jim.

His head was still searing from the vision- _It had no words, but it was Jim…calling from some other universe or time or place, unreachable but here he was, closer than they'd ever been, there was a rope between their minds, stronger than any bond he'd ever had even with his parents, stronger than the pledging body with T'Pring, it was like a mind meld over billions of light years of space, millions of years apart, infinitely far yet infinitely joined as one- NO_

No. He couldn't do this, couldn't lose himself like this. He would not.

He shut his eyes, and tried to fall into meditation, immerse his searing mind in the cool soothing waters of calm, and logic, piece back the frayed ends.

The attempt ended in a burst of frustration, and he opened his eyes to the grey-green cityscape being washed clean in the rain.

He clenched his fist. He could hear Joanna and Helena in the row ahead of them, chattering about stuffed toys and the Golden Gate Bridge. Lee leaned forward to whisper to Helena, but the whisper was grating in his ears. The low rumble of the impulse drive was shaking deep in his bones, jarring his throbbing head, the lights were too bright, the seat too hard, the low chatter a dull roar all around him, people traveling to see family, mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers-

"Spock."

Leonard was looking at him, concern etched over his features.

"Spock, what's wrong? You look ill, Spock." Leonard reached a hand to his forehead. The touch was icy cold and he flinched away, a jolt of pain slicing down the back of his neck, knifing down his spine. He cradled his head, hunched forward, the pain...it was getting worse, if it didn't let up soon he was going to split open, raw and burning, he was sure of it.

He heard Leonard, faintly over the buzzing, white noise filling his ears. _Lee, hand me my med kit_ before he promptly blacked out.

* * *

-O-

_Emergency Medical Facility aboard Shuttlecraft V-74656_

_En Route: Cochran Station, San Francisco, CA_

_06:43 hours_

-O-

"His brain chemical balance is totally out of whack. You need to get him into a specialist."

Leonard bit back several choice words. "_Thank_ you, Dr. Berenbaum, for that insightful bit of medical advice. Now, I realize you're the elementary school nurse in-charge of this glorified dentists office- but as a fully trained Starfleet Medical Officer, I would like to _respectfully_ request you to get your -"

A low groan interrupted what Leonard was sure would have made his top ten rant list. Giving Berenbaum a last, pointed look, he grabbed his tricorder and quickly hurried to Spock's side.

Spock's eyes cracked open, and he made a weak attempt to push himself up on his elbows. Leonard sighed as Spock abandoned the idea and closed his eyes, uncharacteristically throwing an arm over his eyes.

Leonard frowned at his tricorder readings, but sighed and threw it on the adjacent biobed tray, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Computer, dim lights by 30 percent. Spock, don't try and get up, you're still pretty weak. I've shot you up with some electrolytes and mild pain meds but your body chemistry is pretty whacked up. I didn't want to give you any adrenaline or stuff like that."

Spock breathed a little deeper, but didn't reply.

Leonard sighed, rubbing the stubble along his cheek. "Spock. I know...this isn't easy for anybody. But something else is wrong, something I need to know about. You know why its my business?"

No reply.

"Its not because I'm your CMO. You're off duty and technically out of my jurisdiction. Its _because_, and listen up here Spock, this is important- you're my friend. And I'm worried about you. So if there's something I should know, I'd like you to tell me."

Nothing.

"Is it these visions? The one where you see Jim falling?"

He heard a slight hitch in the Vulcan's steady breathing.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Leonard pushed off the wall, and started packing up his med kit, yanking zippers and roughly shoving thing back into place. "Look, if you don't tell me, I'm gonna call up a colleague of mine. He's specialized in Vulcan medicine and studied for a bunch of years on the homeworld. He's at the colony right now, but he'll fly out here if I ask him to. And I will if this goes on any longer."

"..."

"Spock, dammit, I-"

"It was different this time. I saw my mother."

The Vulcan's rough timbered voice cut through the room, surprising Leonard into silence.

There was a pause.

"She was real."

Leonard uncrossed his arms and sat down in the chair beside the biobed.

"Who?"

"My mother."

Leonard stared, helpless, at Spock's prone form, his arm still thrown protectively over his eyes.

"Spock, it was a vision. A dream. Your mother, she's not-"

"I am well aware that she no longer exists in this physical universe."

"But you're saying she's alive somewhere else?"

"I do not know." Spock slowly withdrew his arm, letting it rest on his chest. His eyes were cast down, almost ashamed of the words escaping his mouth. "I cannot explain it, but this dream, this vision…it felt real, real in a way I have never before experienced. It was as if she was contacting me through some kind of psychic or telepathic connection."

"Spock...I don't know what to say to that. I mean, I'm not saying I don't believe in a...higher power. In stuff that can't be explained by science. But you mother...she's gone, Spock."

Spock rose suddenly to his elbows, energy focused firmly onto Leonard. "Humans have a concept of an eternal soul, yes?"

"WHAT-" Leonard caught himself, lowering his voice to a fierce whisper. "What are you getting at, Spock?"

"The Vulcan concept of the Katra, Doctor. Are you familiar with it?"

"Katra? No, I don't know-"

"Simply this, Doctor-"

"Leonard, Spock. I'm not Doctor Watson and you're not Sherlock Holmes."

Spock looked thrown for a moment but he quickly regained his footing. "Yes, Leonard. The Katra is a Vulcan concept of the eternal soul. Human culture has a…a parallel, but as of yet all evidence of a physical manifestation of the concept has rested in the realm of the metaphysical."

Leonard balked. "Now come on. How come I've never heard about this? Vulcans don't believe that kinda thing, that's old school fire and brimstone stuff."

"Although nearly all Vulcans presently adhere to Surak's teachings of mental discipline and logic, the Vulcan culture is heavily steeped in theistic principals. One of them being the concept of the Katra. There are stories of Vulcans, using pure mental energy, who have successfully transferred their Katra,

their soul, into another body."

Leonard's stomach dropped. "Spock, this is…this isn't rational. You're going down a path I can't follow. You've got to let this go-"

"You suspect I am in a state of delusion." It was not a question, more blank statement to match the dulled black eyes.

"Look, I can't do this right now-." Leonard started to stand.

Spock closed an iron grip over Leonard's forearm. "What are you saying?"

McCoy gritted his teeth. "I could ask you the same question. Because it sounds to me like you're implying something that's impossible, and I don't like your bringing it up. We are _hours_ away from burying Jim and you're talking about eternal souls. You can't start 've got to get your head back down here, Spock. I am not gonna lose you this way. Your mother is gone, and so is Jim. Goddammit, we've been stuck here for months- we need to start takin some steps forward, and you're wantin to run straight back to that place. But there's nothing there, Spock- nothing there but death."

Spock's grip lessened, and his eyes dulled, something dropped back into place and the wild, subtly manic creature faded back. He could see Spock again.

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you lately. But something isn't right. I can either ask your permission to call M'Benga, or I can do it without. You need help, Spock. And I can't give it to you."

"And you think he can."

"I think he can help you better than I can."

Spock sighed that Vulcan way, silently and through his nose, and lay quietly back down.

"I am not convinced there is anything more he can do."

"Well. We'll see."

* * *

-O-

_Mind of James Tiberius Kirk_

_Time Unknown_

-O-

Jim burst through the wooden doors, out into the barren whiteness, shouting, bellowing into the emptiness.

"SAM! SAAAAMMM- GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE! GODDAMMIT, SAM, I NEED TO TALK TO YOU! SAAAMMMM! SAM! SA-"

"JESUS, Jim, would you quit shouting? You're givin me a headache." A warm presence suddenly at his back.

Jim whipped around, fuming.

"Is he real?"

Sam's brow scrunched in confusion. "Who?"

Jim worked his jaw. "You goddamn well know _who_. Don't play stupid with me, not my own subconscious."

Sam straightened suddenly, his eyes wide. "You...you DIDN'T- _dammit_, Jim I TOLD you to stay here, didn't I _tell_ you, Jesus, you can't just go wandering around like that, you could've-"

"SAM if you don't answer me right now, so help me I will hurt you, don't think I don't know how. Now answer the goddamned question."

Sam bit his lip, obviously holding back a furious retort. "Look, I didn't think he'd find you, I've only seen him a couple times myself."

Jim's mouth nearly fell open. "You...we've..you've seen him _before? _How is this even possible?"

Sam waved his hands, and a couple of cushy armchairs appeared, and he shoved Jim down into one. "Ok. I guess I should start by saying...ghosts are real."

"Yeah, I got that when I saw my dead father. But how did he get here? How come I haven't ever seen him, or sensed him before?"

"You've just never gone deep enough to notice him before."

Jim shook his head. "Deep enough?"

Sam sighed. "Look, there are about a hundred steps between being totally awake and dead. Think of it like...a ladder. When you go to sleep, you step down, maybe five steps. You go into a coma, maybe another ten or twenty. Those bastards put you down, and put you down hard. Plus, I thought it was in your best interest to pull you down here. I told you this is a safe room, right? Well, think of it exactly like a safe room in a house. You're in the most secure location in your subconscious- bottom floor, no windows or unlockable doors. This is about as deep as you get without dying. You can look down from here, and see the bottom of the well. You don't want to jump, but the spirits down there can see you- you can see them. Good place to shout out a conversation, know what I mean? That's how he's reaching you."

"So...heaven, or hell, or whatever. Dead people can talk to me here?"

"Let's just say the veil to the next world is a little thin around here. They can push it around."

Jim sat back in his chair. "Ghosts are real. And my father's ghost is shoeing horses in the deep recesses of my mind, which looks like a giant stable."

Sam shrugged. "Dad liked horses. You like horses. Its not that crazy."

Jim frowned. "Uh, yeah Sam. It's a little crazy. And since this is my _mind_ we're talking about, it means I'm a little crazy."

Sam grinned. "Well, you could stop talking to yourself."

"Cute."

Sam stood, stretching his back. "Well, Jim, I really gotta get back to work. But you got to promise me- Dad can't help you down there. You have to drop this. Right now."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Look, just because you can talk to Dad here doesn't mean you _should_. Let the dead lie, and all that."

"You're kidding me- Sam, this is _Dad_ we're talking about. I meet him, for the first time in my _life_, and you tell me I can't ever see him again?"

"Yeah. That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Sam..."

"Jim, I know. But it's dangerous. Dad wouldn't mean it to happen, but sometimes people lose their way in their own mind. It happens all the time. Especially when the paranormal is involved. I need you here, sane, when Spock comes back. Ok?"

Jim stood. "Okay."

"Okay?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Okay. Just hurry. I want to get the hell out of here."

Sam looked rather taken aback by the compliance, but broke into a grin and slapped Jim on the back.

"You got it, little brother. Anything I can leave you with? To make the time pass? I'll be back in a few hours to check on you."

"Well, a cheeseburger would be nice."

Sam winked. "You got it." He snapped his fingers, and a plate of cheeseburgers appeared on a small end table, along with a battered copy of _Alice in Wonderland_.

"Sam. Are you serious? This is a kid's book."

"It's a classic, Jim. Listen, I'll be back soon." Sam was already backing up, and turned to back into the frontier-less white.

"And LEAVE THE GODDAMN ARMCHAIR, WOULD YOU?"

Sam didn't look back, but raised a thumbs-up in the air.

Jim sighed, and grabbed a cheeseburger, eying _Alice_.

He shook his head. "Jerk."

* * *

**A/N: OKAY well let's just say one thing here- the purpose of Engineering School is to kill the enrolled students- either in spirit, or to run them until they collapse, exhausted and bloodied, in a pile of calculus notes and poor test grades. At 3am. So for you all, I am forgoing writing a Chemistry lab report to finish up this ridiculously delayed chapter I've been picking at for 4 or 5 months. SORRY! **

**So...reviewers? I know its been awhile. But I'd love to hear from you. Sure helps my writing out. If you liked it at all, please drop me a note. **

**Anyone get the X-Files references? There's a bit of unconscious Supernatural that made its way in there too. Basically, Jim's older brother Samuel Kirk is Dean Winchester. In my head. BUT you can picture him however you want. **

**Thanks, to all for reading, **

**Storyshark2005**

**especially shatterwing ! JEEEEZEE i apologize. i know i'm ridiculous. here is my sheepish effort. i hope it is up to specs if you still have any patience to keep reading !**


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